ONE CRUSTY MOM-E

HOPE CHEST

2012-01-07T12:16:00.000-08:00

I was recently asked a question by BlogHer:
"How do I plan to create Happiness for myself in 2012?" Tough question if you ask me..*

(oh before you get started in reading my answer, make sure to put your own answers in the comments field, and follow the links so that you may have a chance to win a Kindle Fire in the sweepstakes. Click HERE to enter the contest and CLICK HERE To read more on happiness.)

Here's what I came up with:

Once Upon a time in a cedar scented world, hope existed. It's development over time, gradual, piece by piece, served generally in the form of gifts.
It stood for promises.
Commitments and seeing the future slowly reveal itself to you, with every life progress placed within.
It represented Unknown worlds and collections.
Future Happiness.
Fairy Tales for some.
Treasures.
Hope.

It meant milestones on a canvas without yet a single hue of color.
The artist was there, the hope was ready, and slowly it was built, in the same fashion that a house is built, upon a foundation that one man couldn't build himself.

Once Upon a time people were given Hope Chests.
Most of the time these gifts were intended for young ladies, and served as a graduation gift as they ventured onto the world of college.

It's purpose was to build the woman's future of marriage and children and proper household duties.
Gifts were given that were meant for her future, and she'd place them happily in her hope chest.

When she would open the cushioned cover of her tomorrows, her ears would awaken to the specific creak that these chests would make whenever the cover was raised, revealing her slowly growing hopes and dreams.

Hope chests may have held a small sewing basket, quill and buttons, quilts, linens, perhaps a small pie platter and serving set, heirlooms, and always whispered words of wisdom.

She would raise the chest whenever she was gifted with something, her eyes glancing at the interior wood of her Hope Chest. The inside of the chest, more then likely not finished, and complimenting that would be the scents that were also stored in this porous chest of hopeful happiness. The smell of the past from the lotion covered hands of your Great Grandma that were embedded into the fibers of the quilt that she hand made for you. These scents, mixed with what you and I may recognize today as carpeting in a hamster's cage, helped add to your dreams of happily ever after.

When she would go to her hope chest to add to her hopeful heritage, her eyes would glance beyond the present items, and she would see her future, her dreams. Knowing someday her stored contents would be the very things that would ensure happiness in her family's world.

Happiness was easily built back then. Or at least from my perspective it appeared as though it didn't take much to build hope.

So when and why did that stop? Whatever happened to all those wonderful Hope Chests?

I imagine that's part of the reason why happiness is hard to find. Instead of worrying about why it went away, or who was the one at fault for taking it away, or even the commonly sought after question: "When will I be happy again," he best way to learn happiness starts with one three letter word:

"""HOW"""

How can I make happiness when life is minute by minute?
For one I need to stop worrying about the minutes.
SOLUTION: focus on measuring the moments

How will I find happiness and how will I pursue it for 2012?

I need to enhance my willingness to not try to fix the broken and injured.
SOLUTION: enhance my awareness on empathy and focus on the now and the tomorrow.

For example, my brother has a "tail" that will be attached to himself for the rest of his life. It's called a TBI. I have spent countless hours researching ways for him to "make himself okay" with his "tail," since coming out of his medically induced coma almost three years ago this May. I have researched ways to fix him, never realizing that instead I should be focused on being a caregiver in the form of listening.

I've spent all this time trying to give him profound answers to his aliments. Telling him to have peace with the accident and move forward. I have tried to give him logical explanations of why the accident happened, or who was the one to blame. Giving him answers to questions like "why don't my friends call me back?" Or "why doesn't anyone reply to my wall posts? I've even said he should be "grateful" that he was given a second chance, that he should try to "understand" that when his friends don't call him it isn't something he should take personal, because they have lives that they also have to life. I have spent countless moments giving him reasons why things happen..and then, after awhile, I have spent moments avoiding the phone calls with him, knowing that you must have at least 60plus minutes of listening to him talk and typically it's a one way phone conversation.

Real nice, huh?

The smell of the hope chest never changed when the young girl would open it to place moments of her hopeful tomorrows in the chest. The size and type of wood never changed--it was always the same-a place for her to store her "moments." My brother's past will never change, and his present situation, the scars that are part of his life and the isolating life he lives due to the accident is something I cannot change or even try to reason with him on ways to change. I have spent so much time trying to repair the chest, instead of gifting it with reasons to feel useful.

I have lost sight of that, and something tells me that if I stop worrying about how to make myself happy, and my brother, and rest of my family...

...if I stopped measuring progress in minutes, and started storing happiness, happiness will reveal itself to me. Maybe not right away, but if I approach 2012 as if these next 360something days are one big HOPE CHEST, happiness will always be there.

My brother is a part of my Hope Chest. He is one of many gifts that make up my dreams.

My husband and children -more gifts in my hope chest.
My other siblings, my friends, even my words here, are all meant as storage of hope and if I stopped looking for ways to create happiness, and instead started focusing on storing all the moments that are given to me, eventually the happiness is revealed to me. Life will be one big wonderful smelling mothball repellent of delicious hand carved wood.

Each gift given to me placed gingerly in the chest...

....I should focus less on changing the way the chest looks and instead appreciate the items I'm placing inside of it. The beauty is in the make up of the chest. The unfinished wood, the creaks and squeaks of the cover and the smells are all part of the package.

There's a reason I was given this "Hope Chest" and what a waste to not use it. It cannot possibly be filled with gifts all at once. There will be moments that will require me to go into the contents and not remove them, but just rearrange them to make room for the other gifts that are stored there. It may take awhile for the purpose of the chest to be utilized, but when the time comes, the chest will know when it needs to use the gifts stored from within. For as long as I have hope in my life, happiness is just a couple of vowels away.

So going into 2012, I vow to look at this year as if it is in the form of a Hope Chest, being ever so grateful for the invaluable gifts that have been given to me by so many people, and by my own dreams and hopes.

The gift that starts my home with happiness, starts with my Hope Chest.

Here's where YOU Come in!
Go to the MAIN "LIFE WELL LIVED" blog post, and list your dreams and hopes on how YOU plan on pursuing your own Happiness.
(key word; HOW!)

Enter yourself in the sweepstakes to win a KINDLE FIRE. There's nothing wrong with adding the occasional material gift to your Hope Chest, after all.

YIKES!

2011-12-26T11:19:00.001-08:00

Merry Christmas
Happy Chanukah
Happy New Year
Happy Kwanzaa
Any reason to celebrate today and going forward, give it a shout. Sometimes it just feels good saying something that forces your mouth and lips to curl up and smile.

Sorry for the long time away.
but am back and here to stay..
with much more to say.

Especially on boys toys joys drama and you name it,
I've reviewed it.

DOES EVERYONE HAVE A HILLY PIE IN THEIR LIFE?

2011-10-22T10:15:00.000-07:00

It's a new day. When she approaches the cold bathroom floor and faces the mirror she feels good.
She advances upon the mirror ready to face her image, all crows feet puffs and bloated age spots. But she feels good. It's a new day and she's doing something new. She's improving her implementation quotient (FABULOUS BOOK btw!!), finally. It takes her awhile in certain areas of her life to improve this particular IQ part of her life. You see she has this type of personality that can compliment one another but at times hinder her own potential. The part that tends to hold back her IQ is the "I'll just let it go," "it's not worth it," "I'm not going to be drama," "yes it sucks bone ball bags that I've been excluded yet again, but oh well, I have so many other wonderful opportunities to focus on.."

Eventually the nice part of her personality so willing to get a few scratches, after all, they compliment her crows feet and bloat, will tire of this. Eventually the IQ wins out and slowly her personality works together to improve her confidence and ability to speak up..She doesn't want to stand out. She wants to help. She doesn't want the applause. She wants to help to earn others applause.

As we know, life doesn't always work out that way.
But on this day, it will.

Her image set to paint, her hands without the caffeine shake early in the morning, she begins to apply her strong face. Not worried how it will turn out, whether the recent return to her natural roots will prove challenging, whether there will be a light beige line along her jawbone. She is excited and prepared.
She is almost done with this part of the ritual. The application of her face. As she sweeps bristles of promise across her cheeks, laughing to herself that soon enough her real colors will glow out of nerves, giving her the perfect miss piggy cheek glow, but it's okay.

She's doing something new about something old that has been going on long enough. The reason this time? Not for her benefit, but because of how strongly she believes this will benefit a great group of people.
As her hands don't fail her, and her grasp is gingerly wrapped around the paint that provides an enhanced eye curl, she remains prepared.

The moment presents itself. She is prepared. She provides her purpose and the plan, and of course as she is always better on paper then she is verbally, she does have moments of scatterbrain blush and before long the scarlet vine creeps up her neck. But that doesn't bother her. She knows it's part of her. Even when she glimpses the person across the table taking quick glances at the quick growing blotchy vine of neck flush, she is okay with that. For this is her. This is her with the scratches, and the IQ.

The moment is approved. She is so excited for what this will do to help individuals learn visually the meaning of certain events that occur throughout the year.

Then Hilly shows up.
The Hilly that has been 90% of the reason she's worn the scratches the past year. Hilly tries to bully the plan. She tries to belittle. She uses power names.

The project still is in place.

Hilly loves the letter "I." She loves applause and all that glitters, but for some reason she does not like me.
She is unwise as we are part of one group, and if she were to use her own gifts, as she does have them. For example her ability to implement something is outstanding. Very admiring.
Yet Hilly refuses to realize the influence and vision that the splotchy scratched vine neck could bring.

She represents a number of other words that also lines up with the name "serial bully." But, again, Red Vine Neck looks at the benefits this strong woman demonstrates...everyone has good.

But Hilly. No oh no will she allow Red Vine Neck to use her hands. She refuses to see the benefit Red Vine Neck could be to her, and instead demonstrates behavior only visible to Red Vine Neck. She plays the role well. She picks the right friends.

Sadly, even though the project is in motion, Hilly is still causing drama. She's trying to make it difficult for Red Vine Neck to succeed. Judging from the history between the two, typically Hilly wins because Red Vine Neck refuses to cause any problems.

Tragic that something so magical, that could help bring such good to so many people, is still being impacted, by her.

Even worse, she has this ability to make it seem as though Red Vine Neck, is the one at fault,

Me and also that favorite letter of hers: "I."

I'm causing the issue. I need to come to her. I need to send her all the information and she will look it over. There is no degree of power in relation to this one project. Yet the irony of bullying being on the front line of the schools this year, despite the fact that bullying is older then the dirt that makes up the farmers field behind our home, is that there are so many Mom's being bullied by so many Hilly's.

This Hilly has power. So far she has yet to taste the magic of a homemade baked pie.

Will it ever end?
Maybe bullying between students and children will. But something tells me that the "Hilly's" of the world, of the school, will never stop. The majority of them, winning on their game plan of exclusion.

I just don't understand why.

I never guessed that even when you give a good project a good cause, a bully in their late 30's will try to make your life miserable. Instead of realizing that I am happy to give her all the light, I don't want the light, she can say it was her idea for all that matters, I just want to participate in the project itself.

And so the wait for the pie man continues...
I would like to hope that there are some women out there without a "Hilly" in their life."

My Son's Are In Love With Their School Nurse!

2011-10-06T18:49:00.000-07:00

"Gargle with salt water...."
"Gargle with salt water..."
"Gargle with salt water...."

It seems to be a common post bus drop off statement in our house these days.
Not just with one or two of my sons, but all three. I think the third is just influenced by two and one.

You see, they LOVE the school nurse.
Or, rather, going to SEE the school nurse.

I don't know where they got that from. Sure, in High School I would fake the occasional cramps are ruling my ability to participate in P.E., but that was High School. Even then I was worried about being seen as a fake especially when I was being honest.

But when you hear from all of your sons, "I went to the nurses office today..."
"I fell at recess and went to the nurses office today.."
"I felt sore and went to the nurses office today..."
you start to second guess your parenting skills.

"What have I done to my young boys to make them confident enough to mention pain to the teacher on duty?"

"Have I babied them?"
"Am I not babying them, enough?"

It was two weeks into school, and I kid you not, out of two weeks, which equates to 10 days, Sullivan had happily stopped by the nurses office 4 out of the 10.

Every time I'm at school, there's always someone coming and going from the nurses office.
Usually with the suggestion to..."gargle with salt water.."

Is it our teachers that are not able to deal with whatever tiny aliment they're complaining about?
Is it out of fear of lawsuits?
Is it just that my sons enjoy the break from their classroom?

Who needs a break when you're in kindergarten? 1st grade? 4th Grade?
There's no excuse, unless they're all just smitten for her and are in competition for her love.

Makes me wonder how I can change this at home.

My son had a sore throat, no fever, all was good, but I knew it was allergy like. So, he went to school, because I'm that kind of Mom. I did send him with cough drops to help him out if he should feel the tickle getting a bit too uncomfortable.

Then I get a call from the school,...."Hi Mrs. One Crusty Mom-E," just to make you aware, but children are not allowed to bring medication to school."

"Medication??" I quickly run through the morning events? What did I do? Stick Aspirin in place of the snack in their lunch? I'm seeing my morning play by play still thinking, medicine, when the nurse says, "cough drops."

Apparently they're not allowed to bring them to school.

Therefore Sullivan had them confiscated (exaggerated word) until the end of the day. He was informed that he could pick them up at the office before heading out to the bus at the end of the day. In place of the drugs that I sent my son to school with, the school nurse provided him with a mint. Told him to suck on that for awhile and it should help with his sore throat. Then, told him to.............you guessed it....."gargle with salt water."

He wanted to bring bandaids to school the other day, should the one he was already wearing, come off.

I told him to just "gargle with salt water instead" and go see the nurse for a band aid.
There's so many new rules with school today, I don't know how the PTA President keeps it all straight, let alone the School Nurse.

Geesh.
At least the school is comfortable sending the kids whenever they complain about a body part. The funny part is, they're always told to "gargle with salt water," whenever they go.

Wonder if that's code for: "Solve it yourself little one."

IN NEED OF AN ALARM

2011-09-30T10:15:00.000-07:00

I really think I need an alarm clock sans snooze button to help out this Crusty Mom-E.

Right at this moment I have half chewed nails, roots that are screaming for color, dog hair on my socks and sweet pepper jalapeno dip on my shirt. Hair is a hasenbeenwashedsincewed pony tail and I am exhausted.

I knew I hadn't been over here for awhile, but this long? Yikes! Is there a blog app for that somewhere? A "you need to post something" app?..............

It used to seem as though life were busy with little drooling ones. No time. Same need for color, new socks, and washed hair. But the more they progress, the more again, I am witness to how much time it takes out of my own life. Not that I'm complaining. I enjoy the amount of time parenting takes-even when I'm screaming at the top of my lungs because my sons have looked at me cross eyed with eye rolls over long division lessons-. But it takes time. I don't know the amount of time Jr high kids take, but I do know that three boys in grades 4th, 1st and Kindie, take a lot of time.

Are any of you familiar with what an IEP is? Those of you who aren't, that's wonderful! Your child is normal! (Based on state standards that is. Hee-hee.) Our youngest is on an IEP and we've recently been informed that he is falling behind in the normal classroom like setting. That isn't a surprise to us. We knew he wasn't ready for kindergarten. "Then why did you send him," you ask? Well, for those of you familiar with an IEP will understand. But to sum up, if your child, in this particular state that we live in, is on an IEP and turns 5 before the cut off date, in order to continue to receive the state funded services, due to the child's disability, will have to either a) go to kindergarten or b) parents revoke the services that the child needs.

We're lucky that Ben was/is able to be in a Gen Ed classroom. Up until recently. We're so grateful he has a very caring teacher to notice how much he is falling behind because he does need to leave his Gen Ed classroom to receive the services that he needs. Only problem is, when he returns to the classroom, he's behind on what they're learning and unable to keep up. The fast pace roll of Gen Ed is too much for him right now--not just my words, but his teacher's as well- He needs more one on one guidance, and in part because of his young age and the other because of his disability or learning disorder, has put him at risk for falling even further behind. The scary part is that Fall is more review time in school, they teach and advance the children but in a pace not nearly as fast as the program after December. So we have some decisions to make, but one that we all know will be to start, is to have our little dude spend most of his time in the smaller classroom setting instead of vice verse like now. He'll still join his class for gym two days a week, but aside from circle time in the morning, he'll spend the majority of his time in a smaller "self contained" classroom.

This recent discovery has my mind exhausted. Has my fingers worn out from the endless hours of research spent online and by means of pen in hand to take notes. Ben and I, since school has started, spend every afternoon up until recently, "learning." I've probably exhausted him, but I try to make it fun. Instead of sitting and tracing letters, and making sounds, we listen to music that relates to it, and act it out. We play alphabet baseball and he can advance bases when he is able to speak the letter and say the sound. We make it fun for him, but no matter, he is still falling behind.

That has me beached.

Bullying, as you already know, has me beached.
Our middle balance, actually right now is the only normal right now. Meaning our son. But it's still exhausting because of the constant reminder in my head to be sure to keep things "fair" when parenting.

And people wonder why I don't have time to get out.

I could, probably, if I put my mind to it. But when there is downtime, I long to just spend it with my family. To do normal family things around the house like yelling and breaking up fights, and playing fun games and doing fun family activities like who can burp the longest but the quietest.

I could get out more. But I prefer to get out with my family and do normal things. When I'm not working, which has been more often lately-daily for a few hours and then usually on Saturdays-I just want to be at home.

I don't know what it's like to have the issues that parents of HS and JR high and College age kids have. But what I do know is that when they were babies, when my little ones were babies, I spent a lot of time running around. I was always busy by choice. I made cookies and crummy crafts. I got out socially, with them. I disrupted their sleep and naps to get out.

I think all of that running around "back then," has turned me into a homebody now. It feels good, up until the guilt sets in as to why I never initiate any sort of hang out with family and friends. But, if I were to look down the road at my face in JR or HS mode. The face of a parent with a child at that stage of their life, I know that I won't regret saying "yes" to family, even when it's BMS family, because gradually my own sons will prefer not to have family time with BigDog and I.

When that time comes, not only will I not have any regrets for the need to spend time with my family now, but I'll have more me time-without guilt.--

What about you? Do you have a better way of balancing? We all parent and run our lives differently. I'm blessed to have an adaptable personality and am always looking for potential new ways to run alongside it as a wife and mom with the me shadow as well.

Bullying Moms- Bystanding Broads-Victimized like Cancer

2011-08-25T20:37:00.000-07:00

Bullying. It brings our minds to so many very different things. For me, I think of Columbine.

Bullying in elementary schools?

Bullying in elementary schools does exist.

I used to think it was only possible in private schools.

But that was during my youth. During my grades K thru 8th stint in a private school.

I used to think it wouldn't be bad once switching to a public HighSchool.
But then I became a Freshman at a Public High School.

I've chatted up my blog posts previously, on bullying.
On bullying Moms.
On catty kitties.
On bullies and children.

I don't know what your situation is, if you have children in public or private schools, if you are a student yourself, or a happy AARP member hanging out with your bridge or Mah Jong friends every other Thursday..but what I do know, and so wish to be told I'm wrong, is that no matter how old we get, women will either bully, be bullied or watch it from the sidelines, for as long as we all shall live.

Someone tell me I'm wrong!

You may think that this has to do with me and my past. Maybe that I was bullied my entire life? Thankfully my bully experience was chronic in elementary school, like having a consistent flare up of herpes, but has been only episodic later on. I've learned how to manage it. I've learned how to treat it, like you would IBS. You know the signs and how to spot But I haven't been bullied my entire life. I've witnessed it as well, and as far as the way women bully other women, I'm sure at some point I may have intentionally and repeatedly excluded another fellow woman, for that I am sorry, because to have done so, meant that I myself took the Bully card.

I'm clearly pointing out the observations I've made throughout my young life, as a victim, and as a bystander as well. Here's the reason that concerns me about bullying: people don't realize that there is a very silent form of bullying, and I explain it in comparison to the silent killer of cancer in women; ovarian cancer. It's a hard thing to see, to diagnose, until you actually get in there surgically, and take a look around. It's easy to say, "oh you're just bloated because of hormones.." Or in the form of bullying, "you're just extra sensitive and upset because of hormones.." Do you see the relation? In young girls, my fear is that by the time you discover this form of bullying, it will require extensive treatments. Surgical exploration and biopsies to see what sort of damage the bullying cells have caused within the girl.

The longer it takes to diagnosis it, the longer it'll take to consider yourself part of the remission category.

Many are never cured by bullying. Yes, that's right! They've had to adapt themselves to the cancerous cell, making it part of their life, despite the fact that the tumor is probably long gone. There are no signs of cancerous cells, and no longer any symptoms, but it never leaves you, it's just placed in the remission category.

Don't get me wrong, there are some of us that have been victims of bullying, that are able to walk out of treatment and chemo and get in the curable line. But even in the Curable category, it still is discussed. You're still in line with other cured victims, and you all have horror stories...perhaps the ones that hurt the most are the stories of your friends that succumbed to the bully cancer.

The horror stories for the cases where the "cancer" wasn't caught in time, wasn't treatable and definitely not curable. While those of us in the curable and remission categories know that the cancerous past of bullying will always remain a part of our life, there are so many girls that cannot get beyond treatment, that either turn into a bully themselves, or even worse, feel as though there is no treatment for this form of cancer. That they are meant only for the terminal category, no matter how much information is out there to help them. Those bully cells remain a part of their life, dividing itself further, until all this girl sees with herself, is low self worth with the Bully Cell standing front and center in the mirror of her own image. She sees herself as ugly, in shock over what the chemical has done to her, made her not only lose her hair, but worse. . We all know that bullying is for many, life threatening and terminal. Sadly for many girls, they see it as just that, "terminal."

Speaking in categories, this particular form of bullying is known as "exclusion." So very common in girls. Even more obvious in grown women--especially in Moms.

How do you know when you're part of a bully encounter?

If girls, women, moms, and our senior card sharks, intentionally and repeatedly behave in a manner by excluding someone on purpose, refusing to talk to them, spreading lies or rumors, the examples go on and on, that is how you know you're involved in or with a bully encounter. The key word is repeated behavior.

When they do these things to make someone feel uncomfortable, hurt or afraid, they are a bully.

Again, I cannot stress enough, they are a repeat offender. They are the tumor cell repeatedly dividing within the confines of the victim's soul, heart and mind. This innocent victim didn't go looking for this under rocks, material labels and bra sizes, but when it did find her, she didn't feel as though any form of treatment would make it go away for good. Curable. She didn't even see herself in the remission category.

The only thing that would make it stop, would be for her to make her own heartbeat stop. Because her body must not be worthy of anything, since the bully cell found her. Her own spirit and passion intentionally interfered with, and she then makes it stop by stopping it herself. By ending her own life. Too many beautiful girls stop their heartbeats because they felt like even the most useful clinic, couldn't do anything to help her.

This has got to stop.

There are schools taking bullying by the cells of it's own division, trying to find ways to show awareness. To see only the words: "remissions and curable" under bullying, someday. I hope that school districts are developing groups and task research forces, to brainstorm and implement ways to counter the bully encounter. To teach and educate students and families (and work environments) on how to manage a bully, how to survive as a victim and how to avoid being a bystander..

But until then, what can women do?

Simple. The Moms can stop bullying themselves. Its far more discreet and subtle, but oh boy is it ever there. Sneak yourself into a flies eye, and observe different groups within the elementary walls. Parental groups. Committees, PTAs, you name it...the bullying Moms are recruiting more cells at the very moment you are reading this sentence. Pretty freakin scary, huh?

As a Mom, and an elementary Mom, mind you, I see it and hear it and have at times been bullied myself. Or at least they've tried. Frankly it makes me cringe and want to vomit. It makes me ever so grateful that I have sons. Don't get me wrong, boys bully too, but I tell you these Mombullies are just cruel..and yet they're usually the ones running the committee to stop the bullying. Their daughters hear them talking amongst their own recruits outside of school such as this one such example: "this particular mom, well she wanted to volunteer, except she was adamant on knowing who she was helping, she wouldn't give any of her items unless I told her who the family was that we were helping. Needless to say, she won't be on our list of Moms and if she ever does reach out to volunteer, we just will need to tell her that we are okay at this time, and will reach out to her at a later date." Exclusion.

But boys are bullying..just in more obvious ways.

My son has been placed in that role.

The V role.

Sadly, he wasn't cast in a made for TV movie on aliens, but was definitely treated as such.

TURD.

That's all it takes to ruin a child's day.

TURD. TURD. TURD. TURD. and one more for the road, TURD.

That's all it takes to damage the way they think of themselves. Five turd words can ruin a month of school.

In advance.

All because some other boy didn't want to have to get "stuck" building Lego's with another kid, within the classroom.

This happened to my son. The bully wanted to build Legos with another group of boys, but they had reached their max of amount of kids per table. That group of boys said for this bully to go build with my son, but it pissed him off. So, he calls my son a turd.

In the classroom.

In the lunchroom.

At recess.

The entire day my son's a turd because this goofoff didn't get to pway wegos with his own friends. Shouldn't he be calling his friends a turd verses my son? Sure, you'd think, but with bullying, no matter the gender, the victims are attacked for no purpose. No reasons other then being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and for boys, I think that's how it usually happens, it's less bra straps and more pull on the jock straps knee jerk situations.

Pathetic.

But did I anything about it?

Yes I did.

I listened to my son.

I didn't fix.
I waited until he indicated that he wanted me to fix.

When I say "fix" I mean by giving him or telling him "what he should do."
He didn't indicate that he wanted a fix, he just wanted an ear.

He advised me on how he handled the rest of the day--"I just stopped talking for the rest of the day and was just sort of quiet."

I didn't call the teacher or school, because the fact that my son came to me and informed me of it, was good for the time being. I was the machine in surgery, turned on prepared to view the insides, should it seem necessary. I was wheeled into the room, turned on, but wasn't asked to do anything except to be ready for if I was needed by the Surgeon of bullying extractions. I remained turned on as the eyes behind the Diagnostic Laparoscopy scope waiting to be part of the investigation of where the bully cell was located.

I'm on call and on alert, and the fact that my son told me, "he (bully boy) must have had a really bad morning, for him to call me those names for no reason," tells me that I'm not yet ready to be placed into the surgeons scrubbed and sterile blue surgical gloves. It shows me that my son has a very good idea on how to navigate through this particular situation on his own.

It might also help that he started Karate this Summer, mental strength young grasshopper..not fist strength.

Naturally if the turd word becomes repetitive, and my son stops talking to me or making me aware of any other symptoms, I'll become the surgeon myself, and will inflate the abdominal bully cavity with gas, make a few more small incisions near the naval, and take that scope in as far as I go, using the camera to spot any signs and cells that require biopsy, resection and dissection.

For now, I will remain comfortable just knowing I'm in the surgical room, ready if needed. But it scares me that in terms of elementary bullying, and bullying Moms, it's only going to get worse in middle school, for some kids. Because for the higher grades, bullying becomes far more complicated.

The minute your junior high students hit technology with their fingers,when it becomes part of their jeans pocket on the way to school, or on the bus, or while walking to school, another cell begins to divide: cyber bullying.

It complicates things further they you can ever imagine. Like a tumor wrapped up in many of your blood vessels, this form requires far more research, more attention, more detail and more experience. You now need to know not just how to be a surgeon, but be a lawyer as well. To know how to cut away at all the legal factors that won't get someone that tries to help, in massive trouble.

It requires more then just a camera and some gas, that's for sure. But awareness and research starts before the me phone and i void is given to your children. Or at least it should be. Starting bully awareness at the elementary school level, will help reduce tumors that encapsulate themselves causing repeated pain to the victim.

Until then, I would hope that any BULLY MOM's that might not be able to stand that one "other woman" because, she "appears" to have it all, may want to figure out a way to curb that jealousy. They may want to refrain from using the exclusion card, to stop the silly gossip and smack talk about the late hours "the perfect Mom works."

Maybe the Bully Mom and her recruits are envious of what appears to be the perfect work balance and at home balance that she displays. But the way they look at her, it's as if they're staring at a woman with chemo that lost their hair and is revealing it to them for the first time. It's as if they're looking at her as if they're looking at what happens to their boobs after breast feeding--in disgust and horror and misery.

These elementary Bully Moms out in the world presently are toxic to the other no drama Momma's.

Don't forget about the jealous working Moms that have a problem with the Moms that happen to be stay at homers. Put a breast pad in your mouth and knock it off!

Give that Mom a break, my breast sakes! Be happy you have a network of other working women that you see, unlike the stay at home Mom, who may have a very isolated life. Her "outing" consisting of life within the gymnasium. Peanut butter and jelly sandwich combos of PTA meetings and cookies for caring, and market day smencil bulb wrapping paper fundraisers. Phew!

These women will exhaust themselves in bully jealousy.

It very well could be, that this stay at home Mom isn't thinking she's all hot and glittery because she can stay home with her kids, but rather that this was a decision her and her spouse made many years ago, before she became pregnant with their first son. Even though it meant her taking a siesta from her career, at least until the kids were raised. Because that was the sacrifice this family wanted to make, so that their kids could have a parent at home. Maybe even due to the fact that "dad" didn't have his Mom at home, when growing up, and that was something he always vowed he'd provide for his own children someday.

Whether a Mom works at home or at work, is pretty, has the best shoes, has the nicest most educated children, shouldn't be met with jealousy. None of it is better and none of it is wrong. What's wrong is when the women make it wrong.

Judging and Jealousy and the recruited tag-alongs that bat their eyelashes at their boss star bully friend. The Queen bully Mom that scowls and snorts up more PTA playdough then you could find in a hobby store because she is one mole shy of being attractive. The bully Moms that live for hot lunch bull crap, just to get a bit of a marker high by bashing that stay at home Mom, working Mom..as as I refer to as "the elementary Mom."

MomBullies are everywhere.

You'll encounter them at school, at events, on projects, on playgrounds, with nannies without, and they will make it very sneaky clear, that you are not their fan.

For whatever reason. Whether because their bedside manner was ditched with their first bleed, or they overheard the husbands saying how "well rounded" that Mom appears, if they're Mom Bullies they'll happily take joy in excluding you. Of setting you up to fail. Please don't let this happen. Don't be like them. But don't let their own empty sex bucket lives hurt your beautiful gifts as a Mom.

I hope that for those that are stuck on the exclusion end, the ones being bullied, I hope that you'll find a way to help others that were put in similar situations as yourself. I hope that your bully experiences will help you help others. It might be very hard, very challenging for you to help out, because maybe, you yourself were never able to completely overcome the scars bullying caused you. But those with scars are the ones that can help others deal with the same pain. Your ability to help other Moms wont stop when the bullying stops, rather it will continue to be passed along thru any little eyes that are watching you. If you bully. So will those little eyes someday. If you watch a play the bystander role to the bully, so will those eyes. You don't need to be a bystander.

Teach those little eyes that there is far more satisfaction in being an Upstander. Letting the MomBullies know, with tact and grace, "not here, not in my heart, and not in my world." That excellent group of Upstanders you recruit by your own actions, will not only make the road easier, will not only help improve research and new ideas and clinical trials for discovering cures but it will help stop the same damage from happening within the lives of all those little eyes.

So if you see someone being bullied, don't just watch. Don't think to yourself how glad you are that it isn't you. Don't try to convince yourself that you're not a bully, because all you're doing is listening to the Bully Mom share the story with you about some "well to do Mom." You're not hurting anyone. Newsflash, you are. Don't be a recruit to her, be a recruit to stand against the thought of bullying. Stop engaging in bullying the Elementary moms.

Stop being a bystander.

Be an Upstander.

Be an Agent of Change and be willing to spare the change.

Actually, recruit the change and be the change.

For in order for schools to improve their bullying issues, the parents have to improve theirs as well.

I DIDN'T REALIZE ....and SONS THAT STOP HUGGING

2011-08-16T19:51:00.000-07:00

I've been "away" for this long. I have been working on a few projects.
For one, I'm trying to adjust to the new school schedule beginning Thursday.
Because my youngest is now part of the Public School System as a happy Kindergartner on an IEP.
He's ready.
I'm not.

Now, my first grader, he's not ready.
My fourth grader, well, he's so balanced that I worry that he's too ready.
He'll be fine.

All of them will.
I don't know if I'm ready.

WHAT I AM NOT PREPARED FOR:

They're letting go of my hands. Avoiding hugs like the plague. Wiping my goodnight kisses on their pillows.

Asking to wear Deoderent. Looking at Boobs.
Preparing for Advanced Gifted Classes. Asking for the "shampoo and steam/massage and relax" package at the SportsClips where they have their hair cut. Talking about marriage. Understanding the word: "mating." But only from the animal perspective. Using goofy words like "that's beast," for when something is cool.

Watching hot Disney Girls sing on tv. Lady Gaga lyrics known.

There's so many more.

WHAT I AM PERFECTLY PREPARED FOR AND/OR DEALING WITH:

Having Jack smell the different deoderants, showing him what happens when it gets on clothes ("GASP! I Can't have that paste on my football Jersey's Mom!!!")and guiding them towards "older guy" man shampoo and body wash. I am almost through the five stages of grief, when dealing with "Son's That Stop Hugging." Melting when they ask me NOT to wash their pillowcase (because my kisses are always on it). Discussing the likes and dislikes of hot mint scented towels wrapped around them and having one son suggest that they let you "pick a bright scent" because the mint was too spicy. Noticing that Jack and Ben loves Blonds and Sullivan loves Jet Black long haired exotic boobs with legs.

HEAD SHOULDERS KNEES AND TOES DEATH

2011-07-23T20:29:00.000-07:00

It's a curse.

My son, Jackson said it's strange how the word "cure" is so simple, and yet it is shared and altered by one letter, 's'.

Curse.

He doesn't understand why our friend is dying.

He doesn't understand why the Gov't is always trying to make the economy better, or to try and "teach" everyone to get along, ..

To try and improve this issue, and vote and work on improving that issue,...

Yet, in my friend's case, and so many other faces, there is no future.

He doesn't understand why our Gov't can pour all this money into chance.

"Chance."

They don't know if their "ideas" will work.

But they agree to try.

Some fail, some work, many you won't see the effects until many years down the road.

But they continue to vote and veto and Ney, hey and say.

Chance is still part of the Government and their vocabulary.

For our friend, there isn't such a word.

My son wants to know why the hospital gave me crutches because of a recent injury with my toe. and why it's so hard for our friend to get a ramp.

He wants to know why our insurance company will pay for my crutches. Even though I can still attempt to walk without them..

Hobble on them, or wobble with one.

He wants to know why our friend has to pay out of his pocket for any sort of mobile equipment, when soon he won't even be able to walk, let alone hobble. Insurance doesn't cover ramps, chair lifts, pulley systems to help the body lift up out of bed and so forth.

Not a dime.

Not a penny.

They don't even permit a flip of a coin. At least there's still "chance."

But they'll cover a sprain to the shoulders. A wrap for the knee, crutches for some damaged toes, and...and and..

My son is going to be 10 in the fall, and is already far more aware of "life" then I ever was at his age.

It's our intent to promote awareness...it removes later ignorance. We don't know the impact it may have, at this point, but we're hoping that "chances" are, our involving our sons in important matters such as "life," will help promote awareness someday.

It does come with questions and painful scary truths...

the mind wanders, the eyes gaze around the room as they observe more grown men sobbing as our friend stands before us, trying to speak.
Soon he'll have no voice.

A few recent questions from our son:

"Mom, can I die from ALS?"

"Can kids get ALS?"

"If I write a letter will the gov't listen to me?"

"How will I know?"

My reply?
"All you can do is try. When you try, you are awarded with chance, even if it isn't something you'll see with your eyes..and chance means a possibility for change."

Our 31 year old friend is dying.

His daughter recently turned two.

He was able to see her first steps, and hear her call him "Daddy!"

But she will not see his feet walk her down the marriage aisle, someday. She will not have him alongside her as she walks thru the kindergarten world, in three years or four.

36 to 48months until she goes to kindergarten.

In that time, our friend's months will be up.

Unless chance helps bring change, and change gives more odds.

ALS is a cruel curse.

The fact that it's such an ignored disease, is even more frustrating. The govt' or insurance companies don't recognize it as a disease. WHAT????????

Do you know it costs approximately $200,000 a year to take care of your ALS family member or friend?
40 medications a day, approximately.

At that point, mashed up and mixed and poured down the tube that feeds you.. thru the port.

Our friend is dying.

My son doesn't understand.

He doesn't understand why someone is so willing to pour money into something that is strictly " economical chance," but yet it just doesn't seem that they're willing to pour money into ALS's chance.

If you don't know what it does to someone, you're lucky.

In this house, we've seen what it does. To three different people.

Only this particular person, this one of three, is just 31.

ALS attacks all (and more) that is listed in this title.

Perhaps you could just spend one minute and google ALS, and read what it does.

Maybe your own click will put the future and the "chance" of finding a cure, one step closer.

My son's letter is his "chance" to move 's' out.
Will you join in some how, in your own way?

It's about time that "s" is removed from this Disease!

The Giving Guinea Pig

2011-07-09T06:54:00.000-07:00

Being the oldest has it's perks.
Being the oldest cousin has it's perks as well.

But not when it comes to getting older.
This is nothing to do with an age/wrinkle thing.
Stretch mark, hip width, or 11 wrinkles.

This has to do with a lack of published information on the etiquette of growth, gifts, giving, and family.
Good news, you are the guinea pigs!

If you're reading this, from a stumble around the Internet, you're probably the oldest of the family, or large extended family. You're more then likely the first to get married, the first to have kids, the first the first the first...

Which is great when it's a "torch" thing. All those little ones underneath you think that it's the coolest thing that their "big sister is getting married."
Or, their "older cousin on their Mom's side, is having a baby." Even though they don't understand why you won't "tell anyone the names that you've picked out for the little one in womb. (Another topic another time.)

You're the one that was lucky to have your Mom throw you your bridal shower, although it was your younger sisters on the invite list-but because of age, we all know who funds those parties.

You're the one who's Aunts helped throw your baby shower-although it was your younger sisters on the invite list-but because of age, we all know who funds those parties.

You're the one that every cousin asked if they could "bring a date" to your reception. Because it just so happened to be around the same time as Prom, and they'd much rather attend a reception then prom-
although they were adorable to have their boyfriend sign the wedding card saying "thanks for letting him come to your wedding," alongside your Aunt and Uncle's best wishes message, and a check, signed by that same Aunt and Uncle because, we all know family members in HS or College, do not pay for weddings or showers. But they're graced with being given the rites to recognition.

Some cousins couldn't attend the showers, or the kids birthday parties, because they were busy preparing their lives of the future, away in college. But it was so nice of you Aunt and Uncles to include them in the festivities, on the greeting card saying "Happy 1st birthday Great Niece!"

This may seem very selfish. But it really isn't the purpose. Or someone that seems quite spoiled, but again, it isn't that way at all. It's just clearly a point that for those that are the oldest, you will never stop being the Guinea Pig.

You see, lets flash forward 5 years, okay?

You're a SAHM, four kids, one income. Your family lives in all different parts of the Midwest.

Then suddenly, all those cousins, and siblings, start growing up.
They start getting married.
Having babies.
birthday parties.

Which isn't a big deal, only for the small issue of the pressure that is placed on your home, on you and your husband, the Giving Guinea Pigs. Because, it would be rude NOT to fly in for their wedding. It would be horrible NOT to give them a wedding check. It would be cruel not to send their child a happy first birthday gift-although it would mean so much to them, if you could find the time, because they are your brother and sister in law for that matter, to fly in and meet your new nephew that was born. Their first child.

Do you see where this is going?
All those little cousins and siblings that were included on the cards of congrats, that threw the showers, despite the funding coming elsewhere, are finally at that same point that you were, years ago. The difference, is it's almost "expected" of you to do the funding, and for them, naturally it's excused, because how can you expect a college kid to have that money. You can't expect a college kid to just be able to come home for a first birthday party. You can't ask your sibling to take off a day of work, so they could attend their nephew's first party, because that sibling "has a very important retail job that requires no time off." But when they get married, it's a completely different expectation.

You're expected to fund, to be present and to be very involved.
Or expect a big selfish family problem if you don't.

Only, you're a family of one income.
Or, you just can't keep flying to one state or another to attend their weddings. Even though they may have come to yours, aka "their prom." It seems selfish, but when is the line drawn?

A first born is the guinea pig-for most-
I just never thought "giving" would also be a "guinea pig" thing, either.

How do you put an end to all that money, without being disrespectful. After all, it's not their fault the way the roll call was. But the expectation, even if you're the most generous and wealthiest of people, seems sort of jaded. Or, at least for some. Because, now that they have kids, or are married, you're expected to be part of it all. But they, the younger siblings or family members were never given that same amount of pressure, because of where they were at in their life.

This topic isn't over....but I need to look up flights, as a family member just called to ask if we've booked our flights yet.
(To come be part of our niece's first birthday)

CAUGHT PLAYING DOCTOR WITH THE PANTS DOWN

2011-06-27T06:26:00.000-07:00

Ooooh boy.
Yet another reminder why now seems harder then before. As much as I used to believe those first 6mos of life were tough, the older my boys grow, the more challenging it seems.
Obvious for those of you with children older then my sons, you'll say that "just wait, it gets even harder, hunny."

I'm sure it does.
After all I remember what it was like for my parents, as I got older. To say the word "challenge," is being polite. Because we don't have a daughter doesn't mean squat. It's one out of three. Those are my odds. One child will happily demonstrate the stubborn attitude that I did, as a teenager. I realize it also depends on the parenting, and the time and year and how many armpit hairs, but no matter.
I get it. It gets harder.

Besides, my husband sure put his own Mom thru the ringer.

But for right now I have arrived at the road called "pants on the ground" and "two kids playing doctor."

Whaddah Do?

They're not siblings. They're the same gender.
It's not in the same manner as we, for some, the sexual deprived, see it as. But, kids still have a fantastic sense to things "taboo." That's why you'll suddenly find their bedroom door closed while the young kindergarten ready tots happily disrobe for the one being the Doctor.

Is it foreshadowing? Is it considered a level of control or dominance if one child is always the Doctor? Is there such thing as elementary molestation amongst peers? I say that in all seriousness, but not with the concern here. I ask because this is new to me, to a certain degree.

If your child is happy to always be the patient, and will happily agree to the Doctor's requests, how is that a concern? Can a child, while playing with another child, not want to participate in the Doctor's request, feel uncomfortable and be "forced" to play the patient or, "I won't let you play with my toys when you come to my house." If that happens, what do you do? If you're that child, and you don't tell anyone, what can a parent do?

My own instincts that I recall from my childhood tells me that, yes, I believe another child of the same age, could display those traits. They could make another child feel uncomfortable with their requests of sexual exploration. When I say "child," I mean elementary. Before sex-ed is taught. It would seem it's more just an exploration of a sensation that they feel as the Doctor, or perhaps as the patient. Kids love things that make them feel fantastic. That's why they love video games, they think it's "good for them." As parents, we realize they're a double edge sword.

But when they start sneaking of to play doctor, and try to tell you, "we're not playing doctor, we're playing medical storm troopers and Captain Rex needs a shot," when or what do you do?

I will not interfere with their healthy development. House. Fort. TreeHouse Family. You name it. Kids play it. But when do you put your foot down on the constant role this particular game plays whenever your son is around that child that all they want to do, is play Doctor? Even more so, when "The Doctor," tells your son to play Doctor anyways, even though I just finished saying, "No Doctor?"

In truth, I am all over this subject matter.
You should be able to tell this from how all over the place this particular post is.
I just don't know how far you should let it go. It isn't making my son uncomfortable. He seems to enjoy playing the victim.

Oh Shit.

What do you do, when your child is caught with their pants down, so to speak, because, after all, "the only way to give a shot, is just below the belly button."
How do you approach this?
What do you say?

If you make too big of a deal of it, the kids will really gravitate towards it. But what do you do if your child is always the patient? If he and all the other patients are constantly being told to take off everything but their underwear?

Kids have to explore. That's why you'll see the occasional mud under the nostrils, lemonade in the hair, and, if you have sons, target practice in the backyard.

But when it's part of the sensual side of their development, when is it too much? When do you say, "no more."

Where are we at with this particular "medical school discovery?"
This is what we've told our son, and his Doctor friend, (when the Doctor tries to encourage doctor play), "if you want to play doctor, you'll need to do it either down in the family room, or with your bedroom door open."

"Why?" How many of you banked on that as a response?

"Because it's far more fun to be a Hospital doctor then a Doctors' office doctor."

"Why?" Again, an obvious response.

"Because a Hospital Doctor has a cafeteria, and a Doctor's office Doctor has a vending machine." "They have better instruments to help make their patients feel better, and they have far more space to work, in a hospital then in an exam room."

"I'll pretend I'm your cafeteria worker, so when you're doing seeing patients, you take a break for a snack, and when the patient is done being seen by the Doctor, he stops by the cafeteria to buy french fries and a vanilla shake."

When all else fails, pull the treats and sweets card..
it will distract their developing mind for a short time..

ARE YOUR KIDS ADDICTED TO VIOLENCE?

2011-06-14T07:53:00.000-07:00

I can only speak for this household, and this household alone. For I am not a clone, nor is my husband, or three sons. There is only one type of each of us, in this world, even if we all share the same name, eye color and love of fries dipped in mustard.

This is something I say quite often to our sons. Growing up is so hard. I imagine it's far more challenging for these little guys then it was ever for us. Too many choices being thrown at them, and their poor developing brain, cannot handle the capacity to process all this information. Makes me wonder if there is an increase in kids with DX'd delays or disorders in sensory processing.

As my sons parent, I have the choice what to allow in my home. Even if it doesn't make sense from the parkway outside. Even if spiders are allowed, but flies, NEVER!

There's been a problem brewing, I feel, for quite awhile. It didn't happen over night. More so a spice here and a spice there. The final soup just waiting to boil over when I put too much of a fun ingredient in this developmental meal for my sons. My sons cannot be blamed for this. After all, they didn't write the recipe, nor did they determine the measurements. They may have aided in stirring the pot, but the outcome of this part of their life meal, is on my Chef Mom hands.

Period.

You see, my sons are addicted to violence. Or so that's what I fear. Or so that's what I see, or so that's the path that they may be on. I will not blame the makers of violence, because I wasn't forced to supply these ingredients. It was my choice. Nor am I beating myself up over this, or scared over the possibility that maybe, this delicious looking soup will sour and turn into something no one wants served at their table.

They're not in HS, they're little elementary age boys. They, prior to recently, started to really test the "Chef's patience and faith" over her recipe. It's required both BigDog and I to make some radical changes within this house. Changes that are very easy for me, but also very time consuming. You can't get a gorgeous lawn by just paying someone to cut it's grass. No, you have to pull the weeds, add vitamins and sunshine and water, and eventually, with the proper care, that lawn will look stunning.

That's how I feel about my sons. I saw, having had three different blades of grass and yawn for the past 9.5years, and almost 5 years and soon to be 7 years, how much work it took to maintain this darling garden of ours. Recently I've noticed that the blades of grass were turning brown. Even with regular care, the lawn didn't seem to be improving. I realized that I needed to call in some new lawn care services, to help me take better care of the lawn. I realized that perhaps by allowing too much of fun, on the lawn, was starting to really impact the development of the yard. It was sort of seasonal in the past. We'd notice it a bit, and do the right thing, take care of it, and before long we'd see more growth.

Not lately.

Therefore, we've removed all things that are "too much" of a good thing, from their life. They'll earn it all back, when we start to see not just re-growth in the patchy areas of their world, but new development.

Already, day 3 into this new lawn care service, I see a difference. I realize that in another few weeks, suddenly our sweet lawns are going to take a dive worse then what first caused this change. I realize that. When I see the lawns suddenly refusing to change direction to face the sun, and determine that they will move against the flow of the westerly winds, that are lawn care service plan, is actually working.

Thankfully, our little yards roots are strong, and this issue was clearly above the soil. It hasn't invited grubs into it's lawn, because we caught it early enough, when our lawns are still very new to their world.

I've started a separate blog for this matter. The purpose is to journal the change for our own references as their parents, for later on:
MY KIDS ARE ADDICTED TO VIOLENCE

MY KIDS' DOCTOR SAID NO TO VITAMINS!???!!!!

2011-06-07T21:02:00.000-07:00

Before I begin, I must make clear that the purpose of this particular post, is not to destroy or discount my children's pediatrician, or their practice. Rather, my purpose of posting this, is to hear your opinions on vitamins and your children. Are they healthy? Are they damaging? Is there worthless waste of your money types? I'm not asking you tell me that "I need to find a new pediatrician..." nor am I asking you to provide me with the proper dosing of my children.

Oh, and I'm too tired to proofread, so if you're up for it, feel free to leave me a comment on "what to edit."

Okay, now that we've cleared that part up, lets begin:

I love a certain large "healthy" food store, that is full of Whole Yummy Goods. Granted it's not a store I frequent often, but I do buy the kids vitamin's there-and soap, and the usual suspects of goods. At one of the more recent visits, I purchased a large book that discusses traditional Non-Medicine for many different aliments. It talks about vitamins, and minerals, it talks about regular warm salt water, and the difference between gargling salt that contains Iodine, versus using Sea Salt, it talks about my favorite cold friend, the NetiPot...it's a very usual book and it's nice that I have my fingers on paper versus an electronic keyboard when I go searching for "how to solve plantars fascitits" It makes me feel old school, and natural, and I really like that feeling. Although I'll always use deodorant, and I will not give up fast food chain coffee, and fries..especially the coffee that is geared for the stars of the world with big bucks. lol.

I recently purchased two different types of vitamins for the kids. They've been under the weather, and two hospital visits in one month because Ben couldn't breathe was enough for me. I knew that they needed more then I was providing..so I called in the troops of the vitamin C world.

But I didn't know "how" many vitamins they could take. Yes, I realize the box does provide all that information, assuming you have a good idea of your kid's weight, and age, but for me, I've moved into this 'Mental Mom approach' that, not only is age and weight a factor, but also the environment, their emotional state, and their eating habits, (and sleeping-or lack there of). I used that remarkable book that I mentioned above, and, started the vitamins in the way that fit the textbook of each of my sons.

I did call the kid's nurse to ask them about the doses of the vitamins, just to be sure. Naturally it took them about a day to return my phone call-Croup/Strep/Flu Season--- and when they did call, I wasn't home.
Prior to this I had looked up information based on "American Standards on Vitamins." It gave me similar information, so when I called the Pediatrician's office back, and got a voice mail that their phone lines were down -BAD WEATHER- I figured, "eh, the boys are due for their annual appointment soon, I'll just ask the Doctor when I see her in May.

Now we're in May, while school was still in session. It's the evening of the doctor appointment for all three boys. This particular Doctor has been in the practice for a very long time. She comes from a culture, based on stereotype, that would seem to be far more "natural," then, "load them up on antibiotics no matter what!"

Let me tell you how shocked I was to hear her say, "Kids don't need vitamins, they get enough of it in the food they eat." "Don't give them the vitamins, Mom, they're bad for them, and can do worse harm then good."

HALT!
WHAT??
DID??
SHE??
JUST??
SAY??

"They're bad for you?"

Let me tell you that I'm not talking about herbs and random organic vitamins, by the way. Granted they're not the Flintstones that I grew up eating, but they're the usual Gummy types that you see in your supermarket..The other form of vitamin I have for them that they alternate with the "gummies" are from the same company, but just in orange wedgies and help boost the Vitamin C and immune system-plus helps aid with fiber.

There is nothing that is unusual or dangerous. In fact I don't give them the dose that is on the box, I give them each one vitamin less.

So why, would this Doctor tell me this? Why are vitamins suddenly so bad?
No offense to my kids and to your kids, but (and I warn you, this will sound very much like "old school"), girls now days are developing far faster then ever before. There are more allergies and more dietary restrictions, then when I was growing up on Fred's and Barneys and the occasional Pebbles. There are more fast food places, and far more additives in food now, then "my day." There isn't the traditional Sunday Dinner with the family, and does any of your kids, if they say prayers, kneel alongside their bed, hands clasped pointing upwards? Don't even get me started on physical education being yanked from schools due to money issues..or obesity in children...

AND VITAMINS ARE BAD FOR MY KIDS??

Personally I feel as though I "dine them out" too often. So of course I'm going to be far more willing to provide them with added nutrients via the Vitamin world.

Am I missing something? When did Vitamins stop being good?

Maybe, perhaps, about the same time "swear words" were allowed on the ten plus channels available to our kids on their Cartoon Platoon?

(note to the reader: You are right in terms of me being able to limit TV viewing in terms of kids. So I shouldn't complain about the inappropriate puns on digital enhanced cartoon shows, is that what you're saying right about now? Oh and that I, not the world, has the power to parental control the heck out of that remote.I realize that, and no matter how much the kids beg, they'll never learn the password to the remote to allow certain shows to be viewed. In relation to that last sentence was more to poke poor fun at how far from royal our world has become. I do it, perhaps for the most obvious reason: fear. Because the world we grew up in, filled with Bettys and Wilma's has and continues to change so much, and the part of change that is hurtful and bad for all of us, is because of our hands and decisions, and not because of the hands and feet of all our children.)

VIDEO FIGHTING

2011-05-26T13:11:00.000-07:00

I'm not saying this to toot my horn, believe me. Matter of fact, for those that know me, know that I don't walk around singing "me me me me me MEEEEEE..."

But Bigdog and I rarely "fight" about things. Sure we'll have our annual blow up over no-ups, but that always leads to better things. (WINK WINK)

We don't bicker about money, or even religion. How many of you thought that since we're "interfaith," we would? Surprisingly, we balance ourselves out quite well in terms of finance and faith. Maybe that's due to our past with one another. The previous storms we both had to weather prior to getting married. Who knows, and it doesn't matter. We rarely disagree--and that is not a joke!!--

We do, though, disagree over one thing. One silly minor thing that will cause the annual paper throwing temper tantrum that I'll display like fireworks on the 4th of July; all red faced, splotchy, loud and hoarse, with the dog covering her ears with her paws.

We disagree over video games.
Over our children playing video games.

I hate those things.
I hate what they do to our boys, what it does to us, and what the long term impact could have with these darned things. I'm not talking Wii, I'm talking XBOX. No offense to those Xbox gamers out there.

Our children are 9, 6 and 4.
In my opinion children shouldn't play video games until they can:

A) Speak
B) write their name
C) Sleep through the night
D) Demonstrate acceptable anger management
E) write their name in cursive
F) ALL OF THE ABOVE.

Yes, all of the above. Video games annoy me. Especially the ones that involve fighting.
Call it what you will, but when you spend your days at home, caring for your children, chances are you'll witness boys being boys. Which means, they'll bicker, fight, sell each other out, tackle one another, hit, shove and spit on each other--for fun--

Yes, FOR FUN!

So why would I, want to add extra stimulation to their inner beings'? Why would I want to plop them in front of a plasma, give them a violet video game to play, and expect peace and harmony.
Peace and Harmony?

I think not, my friends!

Video games are a privilege. Rest assured our Xbox is the first thing that disappears in this house. It's limited to weekends only, during the school year. But lately their have been more aggressive, and more antsy.

It's the end of the school year, and full on allergy season, that mixed together and you'd think ADHD was the main ingredient within our home.

So I took the system away from all of them-as a consequence of course.

They are not permitted to play Xbox until June.

I only have a few days left of this lovely consequence.
Believe it or not, it has been lovely. Sure they've been in my hair and shadow far more often then not, but that's what kids ARE supposed to do. It doesn't mean I'm supposed to drop everything and go play with them, because that is not me. But they have been nicer to one another, and the one child that has been battling anger, is getting the difference between the right kind of anger, and the wrong kind.

So how can I take it away permanently?
You'll say, "well, you're the parent, you have the right to take it away at anytime..." or, "just take it away, already!!"

I get that, believe me, I do!
However I must first hold true to the punishment, and provide them with the opportunity to play it-in come June-- in a controlled environment that is--

Meaning: I will have to plant my flat sorry tush on their chair in the toy room where the game system is.
Or should I just put it all on the season's shoulders and tell my sons, "school is almost out (June 8th-I think), go outside and play...soon enough you'll be missing the outside freedom.."

Until then, how do my husband and I figure out how to agree to disagree or just agree that "my way" is the way that is the way to go when it comes to our boys and their Xbox. After all, I'm the one home with them all week-aside from one day-

What would you do to stop the video game fighting that might arise amongst a married couple and their only true "marital issue?"

Well, that and the way he drives....

THULLIE, FOULLIE, and FIULLIE MOM's

2011-05-07T17:00:00.000-07:00

From a young girls eyes, it looks better.
Viewed by what is allowable with light. She sees it, without knowing how it really works.
She watches them, looking forward to when she's on the other side, like they are.
Glad to know that someday, the only exclusion, will be that of light, contractually her own.
Regulating light, as it should be.
From her eyes, she looks forward to being attached like they are, someday.

She sees them sitting next to one another.
Clapping and smiling.
Taking turns in drops, and dishes.
Cheering, and matching each others clothing, the only exception is the display of their supporting number, or name.

She sees them standing in line, talking together, watching, as they sign up to help on set days, from the list on the blackboard. She hears her own calling for help, calling in a substitute, and yet again, they come and help.
She watches as they share Kleenex, passing it down the rows as Names and circumstances are blending together, in words and song.

She hears their whispers, topics ranging from the "for better or for worse," to their own little "favorite lights" of joy. She sees them nodding together, as if there is a conductor guiding their ways, especially on conversations relative towards their "little lights" and any new story, development, or funny saying.

It amazes her how they can look different, have different first names for their "little lights," different jewelry, different smells in their home, and smells of their own, and yet, they're all the same. They work well together, and they are always walking in and out together, whether their arms are full of gear, tears, sweat, playbooks, kids, coats, handbooks, or report cards, they walk together and exit together. Never do you see one of them crying alone, if you see them crying, they're doing it together. Not afraid to smile or talk to the newest member. Oh, and they're always laughing.

Always laughing.

She knows someday she'll be there. But oh how bad does she wish to be there, right now.

She'll be in the very place she currently watches. The Moms that are part of playgroups, up through graduations.
Where there is no judgment.
No rumors. No exclusions. No silence.

No tears. No fear of not wearing the friendship pins, or bracelets. No giggling about being bra-less.
No heads of lice that certain mean girls determine are no longer allowed to be played with. No boyfriend stealing, or cheating off your papers.

She knows as much as she knows, so how can you blame her?
As much as the mind allows at that time of her life.
She doesn't have a tough life, or even a difficult one. Actually you'll see her laughing and smiling, growing and developing in her own unique way. Whether from a pail in hand, or basketball, wearing onesies, to doll clothes. Being sized for Cheerleader outfits, dresses for confirmation, or Easter, Yom Kippur or her Bat Mitzvah.

Training bra's, training wheels, two speed bike, keys to the family van, Graduation Caps and Gowns, she has the ups and downs, but it's typical of youth. However, what she looks forward to, is when the peers in her life, like her, grow up to be "like them up there," Parents. That will signify the end of young girls and their catty nonsense. No more bullies or bullying.

She watches her from a distance. Surrounded by loud, "one ,upping," seasonal, reason or lifetime friends. Not all of them genuine. Some with a personal agenda. Some true and real. But others only in it for attention, or perhaps to take over and remove someones best friend.

She remembers when she was that young girl that couldn't wait to be a Mom, a Parent, because that would mean all girls would be women, and in it together. Getting along. Because that's how it looked. How silly was she to think that it would be different? That the iris of the eye would somehow change what it does. It remained the same, and how surprised was she, when she experienced it, just like she had, on occasion, back when she was a young girl learning how to navigate through social experiences.

There she was, arriving in her 30's, 40's and 50's, (60's have yet to be known), seeing that time may have occurred, but habits and treatment, remained the same. The cattiness and bullying didn't go away when girls turn into Moms.

Nope, it just figures out a new way to insert itself in your "grown up" life. The image her Mom and the others, portrayed, appeared drama free. For they always were in the stands, the crowd, the front yard, school classrooms, basketball court, football bleachers, you name it, together. They were Mom's! They looked like they got along! But growing into a Mom herself, she realized how much worse it seems now, then when she was young. It didn't change, they just developed more unique ways to bully their Mom peers.

They push you out of PTA projects, talk about the ones in the school that don't own their home, only renting. They stop friendships between their children and yours, maybe because of religion, or movies they watch, or just because another Mom and them were talking, and they felt threatened by you. It's true, certain Mom's, for reasons unknown, exclude others in fear, because you pose a threat. Why? Because you're nice, and real, and they want to take that from you. Even if they have better degrees, they're still not satisfied. They turn their back on you when your child earns the starting position over theirs, although they'll "always," talk to you. They box ring themselves up with other Mom's that appear to have the closest relationships with all the teachers, hoping that it will trump them, over the other Mom's that perhaps appear to be a "threat" to them. They discuss your parenting techniques, and even if you're a Super Nanny, they find a way to dislike something. It doesn't end. In fact, for some women, it gets worse.

She looks beyond the picnic benches of all the Mom Parents. They're gathered under the gazebo, and even though they're all Moms. It's still just a grown up mess of how girls treat each other. Sure they're all in it together, celebrating the last day of school with a picnic for their children, but the dynamics of women Mom's, for some, doesn't change. How amazing that she actually used to think that it was "far easier being a Mom." She, like many other Mom's present, not all are bullies remember, feel peace as she watches all the young "lights" running around wearing pure freedom , as their shoes hit the ground of the bouncy recycled tires of their "I wish I had this type of park when I was a kid, " playground park.

Her own special "lights" out on the swings, laughing. Giggling. Some kids are in clusters, some happy to be off on their own. No one crying. At least, not yet. Some playing "Hot Lava Tag" others, "Sharks and Minnows." Girls playing House, or "GIRLS ONLY CLUB HOUSE. Others happy to be kicking a soccer ball around. As a Mom you can see that things are starting to happen with girls and how they interact with others. The same group of girls that go to the same Gymnastic Club, Church Group, JCC, or Sleep Away Camp, but it's manageable.

She remembers being that child, managing the unknown. She remembers feeling that first dose of isolation. When all she wanted to do, was swing on the swings, and her other young friends, decided suddenly, that they'd rather throw sticks at the boys, or go paint their nails. So spontaneous and quick to abandon.

She remembers the way it felt, an odd feeling that made her stomach feel hollow, yet full. It stirred in the pit of her stomach, a strange feeling, emotion that was so unknown. Later realizing that this feeling is a symptom from the diagnose of the word: abandonment, ignorance or exclusion.

This girl, now turned Mom, had a fine upbringing. She wasn't an outcast. She was the typical girl you'd see. But abandonment finds a way to enter into every young girls life, some how, some way. It's necessary, for it's the foundation that prepares the girls to be the Potato or Potahto and of women. You're either the girl alongside the other girls plotting to exclude and ignore, or you're part of the group being picked last, being excluded.

At some point every girl by the time they're in their 30's, will have played both roles.

The only change she experienced, was in the situation: :
No more Kleenex in the bras, or wishing you could be like the girls huddled together, that have all had their period.
The ones that rolled on the Ban, and did the banning too.
The ones that the boys always chased, and the ones the boys would ignore.
The ones that got everything they asked for, and the ones that were poor.
Girls never helped girls that they didn't like.

What's most concerning is how much worse women treat women, when they're much older. It can seem far worse. Perhaps because we know better. There is no longer an excuse. But to witness the way some Mom's treat other Mom's, it's scary. Every Mom knows who they are, whether they admit it or not, and they know who to pick on, who to befriend, and those that are just wonderful no nonsense real happy women. Mom's see it all: whether target, or bystander, witness, or bully, it's just far more crafty, and no longer just about stuffed bras or Creative Cliques.

It's the situations that change:
It's the tight taunt tummies after 4 kids-not one stretch on their bellies!
It's the ones that won't share their recipes with you, but will make sure you know that they gave it to another Mom, made loud and clear!
It's the ones that have create the image that "Parenting is Easy."
It's the Mom's that act like they're perfect! Yes, there are many that appear that way.
It's the ones that make you feel guilty when you don't breast feed, or stay home.
The ones that claim "Mom Jeans" are a joke, and the ones that try to hide the fact that they still smoke.
It's the ones who's daughter looks like the girl from "I-Carly."
The one that the teacher loves, or Coach starts first in very game-yes, there are more situations, but bad news my fellow Mom's:

The bullies exist.
They're just MomBullies.
In their 30's, 40's, 50's.
Put that all together, and you've captured the title of this blog.

That "Girl turned Mom," sighs, amazed at how wrong she was. She turns her head and happens to glance towards a group of "Silverettes" in waistband pants, some widows, some almost there. She smiles as they all laugh and get along, grateful for the wisdom of what their life has taught. She looks forward to the time, when she's that age, when she's a "Silver," and like the other "Silverettes" they'll all get along.

No more worries about tight tummies, for their boobies will be covering their stretch mark free tummies, as they dangle like diamonds, hovering just above the hardwood floor. The only difference is what stage they'll be at, in their 60's: some at retirement, some beyond, and some perhaps just arriving. The exclusions and nonsense from Moms in their 30's, 40's, and 50's, perhaps, maybe, will be all gone.

As the Girl Turned Mom watches the Grandmas of today, while she removes the Tupperware cover, that had been protecting her famous pretzel strawberry salad, she watches her own daughter, her own young "light," happy, on the playground, on one of the many playground swings. Her daughter, the girl on the swing, this recent Grad, whether kindergarten, 5th Grader or 8th Grade Grad, is the one watching all the Moms from the distance that she's in.

She's the one you see on that swing, and she, the young iris observer, watching how her Mom and the other Moms that are under the same gazebo, are all getting along. There is that girl on the swing, looking forward to the day when she and all the other girls in this world, and her world, will get along, and be just like them. The Moms working together, setting out all the food for the picnic, everyone bringing their special yummy dish, even the gluten free Mom's.

"How remarkable how they're all such amazing friends," this girl thinks as she is busy reaching new heights, the chains indicating this, by the noise that they make, the higher she swings.

"No longer the bully or feeling all alone, someday I'll be just like them," she thinks.

After all, our Mom's are the ones that teach us to get along, so of course the exclusions, and silent treatments will all be gone. Maybe someday it will be better. The Mom Bullies no longer bullying, and everyone getting along.

Is He Angry Or Looking For Fans?

2011-04-27T11:38:00.000-07:00

One of my children, who shall remain nameless, seems to be displaying issues with anger.
Whether it's a video game or sibling, when something ticks him off, he rages.

Okay, maybe not rages, but he sounds like a snorting bull.
His hands clench into fists.
He turns beet red!
Yes, BEET, red.
He snorts.
He screeches.

It scares me.
Not him. His outbursts. Not because I'm in fear of him.
No, because I worry about his future.
He is quite dynamic. He has always felt every emotion, rather intensely. So it doesn't surprise me that this would be going on.

It has been, for awhile now-not the temper tantrums-but the waves of emotions.
He's been like this since day C-section One.

I worry that unless I figure out how to "reach him," his future will be met with struggles.
Or, is he doing it because it gets our attention?

There are no new changes within our home.
No loss.
No re-arranging.
Most definitely, no babies.
I've done the Volcano metaphor.
I've done this for quite some time.
But lately, it seems more difficult with him.
I've done the, "you have a right to feel upset, or sad.."
..."but how you show it, is another thing all together..."
..."You are in control of your entire body. Are you going to let your body win?..."
..."Or, are you going to allow yourself to win over your body?"

Crying is fine.
Feeling upset and Topsy Turvy, is okay too.
But screaming and yelling and going beyond, is not acceptable.

I do well with managing this situation, but then I myself grow tired of the rants. I don't want to hear them. I don't care who's fault it is, and why they're reacting the way they are...I don't want to listen to it, or discuss it.

I go all Love and Logic on myself and them.

Sometimes I ignore the behavior.
Sometimes I lose my patience.
Sometimes I'm not affected, either way, with any sort of negative drama with my sons.
It's far easier to parent that way-
to remove your emotions from it and focus on the issue-
focus on what the problem truly is.

Not the temper tantrum, but why it's going that route.

I'm feeling tired right now.
Not with any desire to give in, just tired of trying to improve it.

I've even done the YouTube Temper Tantrum search.
One afternoon, I sat my sons down, and "made them," watch what parents have captured (or bystanders) on camera. Temper Tantrum Tales.
Of; children in malls whining,
Of; kids having meltdowns when their brother tells them to turn off the video game system,
Of; kids throwing a fit when given books as gifts, for birthdays and Christmas

It worked for awhile.
I'm not saying he's always like this. Because that's not the case.
It's just when he gets mad, he gets mad.
He feels everything, as I said above, so much more then my other sons.
He cried the hardest when our fish died.
He snuggles the most when he is scared.
He laughs the best belly laughs.
He is most obviously the happiest, when he is happy.

Maybe I need to get him into theater. No, I'm not joking with you.
Maybe if I allow him to channel his feelings, and release them in a setting that is positive, will help settle the "when he's mad, he's really really mad," emotion.

But until then, I'll just go around the parental circle of:
constant positive acknowledgments
removing the problem ( VIDEO GAMES ARE MY WORST ENEMY!!)
You Tube
and anything else that comes up, throughout this phase of his life.

*and I thought the sleepless nights of infants were tough. What I wouldnt' give to have that "tough time" bundled in my lap right now...my very emotional son, snuggled as a newborn, safe with a clean slate ahead of him.*

IT'S SORTA LIKE THE EMERGENCY RESPONSE MANAGER DRIVING LIKE A NORON

2011-04-13T19:44:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's like that.
You're behind an SUV that has regular "normal person plates," but is clearly part of something else. You see it when the glare of the sun setting hits the back window of his SUV just right to see the outline of lights.
Well, that and the big bold letters on the back of the SUV window, "EMERGENCY RESPONSE MANAGER."

You see kids in his vehicle and he's clearly not on duty. I don't know if this particular role is a citizen emergency response team sort of thing, but what I do know is that when you promote yourself, or your role, make sure to not give anyone a reason to be concerned.

So when he fails to turn his left turn signal on, even when he was at the "fault line," it makes me wonder. Or when he suddenly, at the next light, accelerates and has not even approached that same white fault line we are "supposed to remain behind" until we are given the green light. When the green light goes to yellow and you witness this Rooster go through the intersection well after the yellow light changed, you might think to yourself, "either this guy is reckless, or perhaps he's "on duty," but doesn't put on his inside flashers.

Until you see the kids soccer goalie gloved hand appear "surfing" out the front seat passenger side of the SUV. Then you know that this joker, in his own vehicle, just spiffed up, and with a special role people of some team selected him to manage, is simply another poor example of Noronisms. It's one letter short of M, people. It's not that hard to decipher.

Or when you're a HS student, and you're at a local Supermarket with a bunch of your friends and you witness someone being handcuffed and arrested for shoplifting. The shoplifter is your fellow P.E teacher-busted for swiping running shoes.

Or the Drivers Education Teacher arrested for DUI.

These don't even DESERVE Darwin awards. NORON AWARDS!

The Pom Pom P.E. Teacher that is busted behind a local clothing store, engaging in sexual acts with a "consenting" 16year old boy, that is a student at the same High School.

The Fireman on his way to his shift, in his gear (not fully suited, naturally), texting while he's driving.

This one's a favorite of mine-personal experience the other day, matter of fact- A doctor that I had an appt with for the first time, ordered blood work. 4 vials, one stick. Cortisol. Prelactin, and two more hormone related blood orders. The convenient center is just two floors down, which I can take the orders with me, walk in and wait until I'm called by the Lab tech. Are you familiar with these particular helpful locations? You know, the one that is helpful to you when you don't have an emergency but have more then just a sniffle, but they close at 6:00pm over the weekends, and 8:00pm weekdays?
That one.

So you're called back by the Lab tech that looks over your orders. Mentions that cortisol blood draws require a fast. I mention that it isn't indicated on the order, so it must be okay. She mentions that she's never drawn any one's blood for cortisol checks after 10:00am (it was 11:30), and they always fast. I asked her if I could just do the other ones and come back for the Cortisol draw, after checking to find out with the Doctor whether I need to fast-she says, "well, she could, but then I'll be charged twice." At the same moment this white garment Dolli covered woman turns her head away from me, lifts up her left hand, and proceeds to sneeze into her left cupped hand which she had hovering just a few inches beyond her right arm's elbow.

What's worse? As she tries to tell me that I'll have to "pay for two pricks," (her words, not mine) and her services, and the facilities services, she gingerly and subconsciously glides her left cupped sneeze hand down her right white garment scrubbed sleeve.

That's right. She sneezed, and swiped.
While she's talking "pricks."

I don't think she even realized she did it, but my eyes saw it and I was shocked. My brain didn't want to process what I just saw. Mentally my mind was trying to come to terms with whether or not my eyes saw an exaggerated form of a sneeze, or a real sneeze and swipe.

All the while she's "debating" the orders of the Dr, and saying she's never drawn for Cortisol without a fast.
Now all that could be true. All those "rules" about not drawing a Cortisol read anytime after 10:00, without an 8hour fast could be true. But if my Doctor, who was two floors up, just gave me these written, and printed and reiterated verbally, orders, well, what am I supposed to do? "Be pricked twice and charged for it too?"

I found myself asking her if she could please contact my Doctor upstairs, to determine if that's what he wants. Btw, he's an endocrinologist, I think he's familiar with this part of the medical field. But, for whatever reason, I heard myself ask her if she could contact him.

She agreed.
She and her sneezed on and swiped arm and hand turned away from me, and approached the door, and in the same gentle manner that she displayed as she swiped sneeze snot on her medical Lab Scrubs, she slowly and gingerly turned the handle of the door, and left the room.

If my brain was a person, he'd have earned an award that day. I think for some reason, it knew that I needed time to process this. It knows any form of conflict takes me time to process. When the last icing was her boogies on the door handle, regardless of this center being "well acclaimed" and "awards abound," I knew I needed to leave. I took one of those latex gloves, and before (and after, matter of fact) pulling it over my hand, I covered my hand like a gyne would doing an internal check, with 6pumps of Hand Sanitizer, and proceeded to MCSteamy my hand into the glove. I then lathered a paper towel 7 pumps of Hand Sanitizer, and used that to open the door, with my one gloved hand.

Remember, she didn't pump once. I didn't realize that until I had had time to process this all. She didn't pump when I followed her into the room, when she was discussing two pricks vs one, when she sneezed, or any other of that time.

These are just a few of the things that I've actually been privy too, whether as a bystander, or a Newspaper reader.. It's sad. It's all disappointing. No matter how I think of it, it's just clearly disappointing.

It's easy for me to do something about it. It's easy for the Law to do something for the shoplifting teacher, the drunken Drivers Ed doc, or the Sexual Pom Pom Prowless.

But will it really change?
Will "two pricks," learn to pump?
I guess I can hope for that.

In the meantime, I did sort of get a laugh about the sneeze prick swipe snot lab tech experience. When I walked out of the back, solo, wearing one latex glove on, with my hand up like a surgeon ready to say, "ready?" was hysterical. What would I think if I was one of those people, sitting in the chair, waiting to be seen by a Doctor because my cold has gone sinus infection on me? Would I think it was a joke? I don't know. But one things for sure the look son the waiting room faces was definitely a fast and easy thing to process, unlike "two pricks, snot and a Manager for the Disaster Response team, driving his kids home from soccer practice, like a Noron.

If only I could have been privvy to their thoughts. I bet it would have taken some of the frustration at that moment.

His Feet Smell Like Damaged Sporting Good Books

2011-04-08T17:11:00.000-07:00

Not making any sense, yet again, right?

I don't know HOW to explain this.
Sometimes I don't know what I'm doing.
This isn't a Pity Party and there is no Electronic invite going out, so no need to pull out the armored "you're a great mom," guns.

My darling oldest, is so intelligent. So intelligent that he doesn't need to study for tests before he takes them.
He's in 3rd grade, for gosh sakes.

But I wasn't joking around, he is very smart.

Only he has an issue with remembering to bring home his study guides, for any test that's on his horizon.
Does he really NEED to bring them home?
Not really.

But I get so pishwhack ticked when he not only "forgets" them, but cops an attitude with me because, "Mom, I know it already, it's optional to bring them home, and fill them out-"

Wait, he's been given the option to fill the study guides out?
I'm finding this out with 47days remaining in the school year.

I am not blaming him, as I am the parent. I'm the one that helps condition him now, for his growing hairy chested future.

I.I.I.I.
me.me.me.me

Not that I'm not aware of what's going on in his classroom. I do. But Bigdog and I have also said that we cannot hover over him, we can ask him what his work is, and go from there.

That's been a big challenge for me.
Letting go and just letting him fly.
He'll still pass the tests, but he's not doing the optional, not graded for extra credit work.
That bugs me.

It's always good to go the extra mile.
We "train and prep" him now for it, by "making him" do the study guides.
But is it overkill?

He brings home a binder everyday with what his assignments are, daily and future. But he knows that unless he verbally tells me to sign his daily binder work, and view it, I won't.

It's a tough call.
Am I being too much of a raging football coach or a controlling basketball brawler coach? Am I expecting too much? He does excellent, and as I mentioned, he won't need the study guide, but habits, like height, change.

Besides that, he never forgets to bring home any sign up sheet relating to football, science, art, or basketball.
I doubt he'd leave his players book behind too.

Or am I just showing early signs of a Tiger Mom? Or a woman with ALOT on my plate, and acting like a victim, wah wah wah? I don't know.

But now I feel better after getting it all out on paper.

Ever have those days?
If you do, seek your option only study guide to reference recovery.
Unless of course, you leave it in Jack's classroom.

THE SUNDAE THE LUMP and THE FISHERMAN

2011-04-04T11:48:00.000-07:00

When you think of a sundae, what image do you paint within your mind?
I imagine whatever suits your palate best, correct?
For me, rainbow sprinkles in a very wide bowl so that the scoops could be placed side by side, versus one on top of the other. (It's been done that way, so don't argue with me.)
The scoops are vanilla ice cream or chocolate chip ice cream, with extra heavy whipped cream and a smidgen, splash or dash of nonpareils.

Sounds yummy.

Only this "sundae" is different. It's unlike the one I just described in the paragraph above.
No.

This Sundae I've dubbed, "A Dessert." (As in, to desert, but used in a sweet after dinner way).

For those of you that have experience strained, estranged, or even perhaps strange family or friend relationships, the image of THE DESSERTING SUNDAE might be more obvious to you.

A SUNDAE is a selfish individual. Someone that cannot maintain a relationship with you, or the links connected to you, because they're too sweet on themselves. They'll disappear. Deserting you when you need them the most. They appear most helpful, and are full of colors and whipped wonders, they give you a lot of their time, lots of sprinkles, but when it boils down to he, me, she, or we, ultimately A SUNDAE will return to the freezer, disappearing without so much as an explanation. The image of the Sundae, is delish. But, truthfully, what the Sundae is, is far from Sweet. They are around for their benefit. To receive credit for whatever it may be they are doing. They appear to have a large bowl of time and compassion, but in all actuality they would rather freeze, retreat into the freezer, within the confines of their pint container, then melt in a bowl.

So there you have it.
How many of you have had a Sundae in your life?

THE LUMP.
It's discovered when you're in for other tests.
You're as surprised as the lump is, when the Doctor says they've "found something."
A person, can easily be dubbed a lump.
Doesn't go anywhere.
Is lazy.
Prefers to, serve itself, inflating itself, making it angry or inflamed. They can cause pain, but the real lumps, the serious ones that are discovered, are the ones that aren't currently causing you pain, but down the road, you'll be in for a real fight. Could be terminal, if you're not aware of it.
I'm grateful that I have removed any lumps that may have been discovered by self exam or friendly family intervention. I can say that all the people that I have chosen to be part of my life, are not lumps. They're genuine.

The Fisherman.
Always craving the fish the other guy has on the dock to the east of you. They may have the entire world, but still, they cannot handle it when you may have more success or luck at something. Even if they have fish jumping up out at them. They stir the lake. The stir the river or creek. They stir it up, fishing for information on your life, or the people in it, only to benefit themselves. They're very close cousins to The Sundae. The Fisherman will pop in and out of your life, and will never do anything to help you out. That is the difference. Both are selfish. But at least you're able to get a few scoops out of The Sundae. The Fisherman's only intent is to arrive early on the dock, and ask questions in a way that appears that they're truly interested in your life. Their motive is to find out where the best fish are, how many fish you've caught, and how, even though they may carry the material trophy of Fishermen Wealth. They're never happy, and will never be. They're sneaky. They seem like they want to help, but they don't. Again, at least The Sundae is around for awhile. The Fishermen type are all about the radio version WII FM. (What's In It For Me).

So there you have it.

How many of you know or have know lumps, fishermen or sundaes? What have you done to remove them from your world? Or, how do you manage to keep them a float if they're still around?

THE DECAY OF DENTISTRY

2011-03-21T07:09:00.000-07:00

My teeth don't like me. Or, rather, ever since they were introduced to HCG, the teeth and I haven't been best of friends. (NO, I am not pregnant, I'm referring to the past)

Anyone with problem teeth, IE: root canals, extractions, gum issues, endo issues, will know exactly where I'm coming from. Despite the fact that we're lucky to have dental insurance, it still is worthless. Those of you in similar boats, understand.

I swear that the dental insurance industry is just a front for the CIA. You call to ask them questions about the coding system, and they cannot provide you with that information. From my experience these past few years, unless the dental office sends out a predetermination letter of suggested work, the insurance company will not provide you with any pricing, of their own.

See? It's very covert, don't you agree?

I just am frustrated because teeth are so important, and yet we have to let things slide because it's a constant competition or fight between the dentist office and dental insurance. Perhaps like brothers, Cane and Abel. They don't work well together.

I was floored when I was informed that if we should see a dental office that is out of our network, but willing to accept our dental plan, the way the dental insurance determines how much they cover, is based on a % or average between all the usual and customary charges within our region/zip code. When I asked the rep if the usual and customary charges differ, she said yes, they do.

I asked her where I could go that has the lowest region of established fees from their plan, and she couldn't tell me. She said that I'd have to research that myself.

See what I mean? It's like the Hole in a Bucket. No matter what you do, back and forth, you never seem to accomplish what you need.

I could call around to all the different dentists in the area, outside my area, and perhaps within other states. I could call them, as the insurance rep said, and ask them what their own fees are.

The kicker? I tried that. After all, I can shop around for a car, for doctors, for homes, and Realtors, for plumbing work, etc, but apparently the dental offices do not give out their charges over the phone. WHAT? I would need to make an appt, come in, have a consult, and then they'll provide me with the work they feel I need, along with my costs, their fees, and what, if any they estimate my insurance will cover. Typically, in doing my research, those offices that I did call, advised me that they charge a consult fee, but it can be applied as my deductible, towards my insurance.

They get you some how. The fees from offices range from reasonable to, you have got to be kidding me!!
Sometimes I feel like not only are these dental offices a front for CIA work, but some of them must be practicing gastrologists in the midnight hours, because they sure figure out a way to screw you, in your twilight sedated IV haze of a colonoscopy.

Where I grew up, you can find a Church pretty much on every corner.
Where I live now? There are more dental offices then there are Starbucks.
But maybe that will help my poor husband's hard working pay check in the long run.
Maybe, just maybe, the more practices there are in my are, the more they'll compete with one another, lowering their own fees, to keep a steady flow of Decay gumming down their door steps.

I have learned to believe dentists as much as I would the used car salesmen.
Forgive me for that statement, but I'm qualified to say so, after all, I was in the automotive industry, and saw first hand all the things dealerships did, to "keep" their customers.

I'd rather buy a used car then contact another dental practice.
Sadly, the cost that all of this nonsense is adding up to be, is beginning to feel like I was hosed and closed on a 72month automotive loan with a 31% APR. Can you imagine?

Open up and say, "SEALANTS!"

How Far Do You Go?

2011-03-03T18:32:00.000-08:00

Today is far different then when we were growing up.
My Mom was always saying, "Stand up straight, shoulders back, elbows off the table, chew with your mouth closed, don't talk with food in your mouth, cross your legs when you're wearing a skirt,...."
My poor Mom.

I would imagine she grew tired of the constant parade of "this this and this." Did she ever question why in goods grace we didn't "get it?" Or did I actually get it? I'll have to ask her about that one.

Here, in our home we have me, the Mom, and bigdog, the Dad that were raised in two completely different types of homes. Neither home was better (MINE!MINE!!MINE!!), but it's far more apparent when we come to certain crossroads when it comes to expectations of our sons.

It might not necessarily be because of where we were raised, or what religion our parents are, I don't know. That's why I'm asking you.

Could it be the reason Brian sees "nagging the nerves out of the kids," due to the fact that he was raised by a single parent? Or perhaps because when his parents were married, they both worked? Is it in fact due to the location where he was raised?

Me, the burbs of Chicago.
Him, straight south and just a beach away from SouthBeach.
Miami, for those of you not around during the Crockett and Tubbs days.

When he and I start to see certain things differently, it's actually sort of a fun experience, experiment?
What a twisted little girl I am. How can difference actually be fun? After all, you're talking about the girl that cringes when conflict is around. My neck will flush, my ears will burn red and I just hope that time will pass to where conflict resolves without too much hurt from either parties.

He feels as though we shouldn't have to keep telling our boys to sit up straight, elbows off the table. That by now they "should get it." Naturally, it's as exhausting for me to be the scratched up DVD, but I also know that they won't get it. Matter of fact, some grow up to not get it.

True story.

He feels as though we're doing something wrong. I'm not writing this to create drama with him, and he'll agree that he and I do have a different approach to raising our children.

Is his approach because he didn't have a Dad growing up? (or should I say, his daddy played a really long game of hide and seek.) Is it because he's a guy? Is it because he only has one sibling, a younger sister about a year younger then me?

Is it okay to be a bad cop and good cop when it comes to parenting? Which way is better? The Dad being the strict one and the Mom, the lovie?

If you were a fly in this house, I'm lovie, but in a commander's uniform. He's fun. Maybe it's because we have boys? Could it be that reason? Or perhaps because of the type of person I am?

It's hard because we don't know which way is the best. We don't know if we're helping one but harming another by nagging them with the same things.

I agree with him that I need to loosen up. That is so true.
Parenting has turned me into a scaredy cat.
I'm not a big fan of that.
Parenting has turned me into a happy homebody.
I'm okay with that.

But, is it common to have to constantly tell your sons, each night, the same thing over and over again?
I eventually drew up a chart with pictures (to help my 4year old), so they could reference the chart and all I'd have to say was, "don't forget to check the chart check list."

That helps.
But not during dinner.
Are you kidding me? They'd jump at the chance to get down from their seat to reference the dinner table chart on proper skills and manners.

Why is it such a big deal if they get down from the table? Do you think I'm asking too much of them when I tell them to not only clear their dinner plates, after asking to be excused from the table, but to also take ours to the sink, scrape the food, rinse and place in dishwasher?

This is the difference from Brian and I.
Brian grew up with a housekeeper.
His Mom was busy working, to support him and his sister. She didn't spend too much time on the manners at the table, when he was growing up. Does he have bad manners at the table? No, not unless it's involving celery, but that's my sensitive ears for you.

Is it slave like to ask our sons to clean up not just their settings, but ours as well?
We don't pay them allowance yet-I don't think they're old enough for that.

The way I see it, is this: Brian is far more open with the movies and TV and entertainment they watch. He's okay with video games. Fine. Like I said, having a difference of an opinion is fun because you get to tweak your own personality and learn a new way.

The boys were given game systems from Brian's family, when Jackson was only 5!

So, the way I see it is this: If they're old enough to play certain games on XBOX, then they're old enough to clear and clean up my dinner plate.

Or am I just an old school ninny stuck on the "Andy Griffith street?"

IT STILL EXISTS!

2011-02-23T18:21:00.000-08:00

I received a handwritten thank you note the other day from a very large company. This company was responsible (online) for sending me my husband's birthday present; slippers.

I have never, seen a handwritten letter, by two agents I spoke to, besides ones we'd send out from the old phone company, Ameritech. (Remember? That's where I met Bigdog?)

Anyhow, I was shocked. I felt like carrying it around and bragging about it. It's the smallest thought, but for me, one surprisingly big reaction.

Good to know there is "Real" in big online companies.

What has a company done for you lately that made you smile? No need to share the company name, unless you want to.

(*this isn't any sort of paid promotion, BTW!!*)

IT COULD BE A GOOD LIFE

2011-02-09T10:41:00.000-08:00

But for some, it would be a maybe.
It's a good life, and then you find out your dying.
It still can be a good life, but are you prepared when you find out it's someone you love?
Or if your loved ones find out, its you?

This is someones son.
brother.
husband.
daddy.

He is someone our family has had the opportunity to watch grow up alongside our brothers. On the baseball field, and football field, and many other occasions that we were all together having a wonderful time.

Nowhere did any of us ever imagine that we'd be sharing more time with our friends, because their son has ALS.

The golf outing and private auction was a success, this past Summer.
Yes, there will be another one and I am certain even bigger then last years!

Please remember people that have illnesses that you only know initials too.

The tragedy is in the lack of resources, in order to save this young man.
So that one day he will see his daughter down the aisle.
Right now, he's grateful that he's seen her take her first steps in life.

Remember to Know more about issues like this.
Be aware of these diseases, and I pray that you'll never be as close to someone, or know someone that has been given this clock ticking finish.
This isn't the first person we've heard of.
It's just been the first one we've known, so young.

What can you do to help make it easier?

"A FLY ON THE WALL,..."

2011-02-06T18:42:00.000-08:00

...."I'd Love To Be A Fly On The Wall..."
...in Your Home...,"
is what my sister said to me last night as we were driving home from a girls night out. This girls night was Mom, our other sister, and one really amazing sister in law. Or, one we would hope !!!!!!!!!will be our sister in law, someday.

My sister made that comment as we were discussing life inside our own homes, with our husbands and kids.

She said that everyone one of us in our own family has it's uniqueness, and I chimed in, "we all have something that someone else would call, 'jacked up.'

When I say "Jacked up," I'm talking about ways we parent, what we believe in, what we feel our religion means, or how we drive a car or kiss our forevers'. There are many other situations that could earn you the jacked up award, but there are just far too many categories to list. Besides that's NOT the point.

The way it came up is that my sister and I were exchanging silly stories of things that have recently unfolded within each of our homes.
With our own spouses and children.

I tried to defend myself by saying that I could say the same for her household. After all, her lunches ALWAYS taste better then the ones I make at home, and we make the same thing, but she was stubborn on this and said that it seems that things within my home are "more fun."

I definitely wouldn't go that far, and this is where the jacked up meaning comes in, but no matter what I said, she is convinced that the walls in my home would be far more interesting and fun for a fly to hang out on, then in her home or the rest of the people in our family.

It's a compliment, actually. That's exactly how I took it, and it made me laugh.
If you're more from the creature of the Negative Nellie, you would probably take it the wrong way. You may see it as a slam about how you parent, what your husband or wife or children are like, and how you decorate pie. You would think someone was slamming your quirks. Get over yourself! Laugh about it!

You see, I am more then willing to admit that I am a raging goofball, a silly mom and one that has happily said I'm not a big fan of sleep deprivation with my newborns. I figure it's far better to laugh at myself, then it is to not laugh at yourself.

There have been many sillies that have occurred within my home with my sons, spouse and wonder pooch.

Take for example my obsession of toilet seats.
It has nothing to do with my love of plumbing, or the fact that I'd much rather clean a bathroom, on hands and knees, then have to iron 3 blouses.

It has to do with the fact that we have three sons.

Some of you that have been around for 3plus years already know that.

You also know the way my mind processes things.
The way I jump ahead in thought, about whether or not my sons will be embarrassed when they have their first teenage special dream.

For anyone that is fairly freshmen here, it's not unusual for my brain to think up things like laundry, and as just mentioned, the laundered teenage dream.

**note to self, include an extra prayer tonight to G-d thanking him for not giving us a daughter, because I cannot imagine what I'd have done to her, with my silly ways**

You see, growing up with two sisters, two brothers, a Dad that prefers quiet time, and a very sacrificing Mom, well, pee breaks were rushed.

It usually seemed that just before I had to pee, one of my brothers would also have to go, and always make it to the door before me. I have to give them kudos though, as they didn't leave my bladder waiting for too long, but it balanced out because I'd sit down on a wet seat, almost every time.

I wonder if they meant to do that? The seat wasn't always wet, sometimes they gave me a break from it and just left the seat up all together.

I'd end up toi-bowling my ass.

All those years of the wet seat, and I grow up preferring to clean a toilet and bathroom over anything else.
Go figure.

Sadly, my three sons have to suffer at the hands of their Uncles.
Should my little guys either;
A) make a mess anywhere but inside the toilet seat
B) Leave the seat up
C) not put the lid down
D) All of the above

What happens is that I require them to clean up after their lazy urine stream mess. I'm trying to teach them how to take things slow, take their time and not Auto Correct themselves through their pee breaks. With everything so rushed rushed and instant today, the best way to help teach patience, is to make a boy scan the toilet seat after he's down using the bathroom. He makes the mess, he must clean it up.

I grew up the oldest of five kids, and for a very long time, we had one bathroom in our home.
It worked.
None of us have irregular urine flows, as far as I know.

I can't remember it in the same way my Mom or Dad must, but the same will be for our three sons.
They'll remember Mom being a freak when it came to their seat, but I'll remember wet cheeks and sticky seats.

I think perhaps that's why my sister made that comment, about being a fly on the wall.
Because I have a very unique way of parenting, in certain aspects of our childrens developments.

I've written about some of these things, in previous posts, but when she made that comment, as she has in other conversations, it made me smile and love my sons even more for trying so hard.

So you know, for one, I will not damage my children in anyway that is neglectful, abusive or cruel. I will, however, do what I can to teach them how simple life can be to care for themselves, to be confident and not embarrassed about themselves, and most importantly, how to love. (and how to aim and pee)

If that means I have three more years at inconsistent saran wrapping their toilet, so be it.
I wonder if eventually they'll learn what it feels like to give their tushie a pee pond?
They will.
I have no doubt.
After all, their Daddy's Mom, and I'm sure many other silly Mommies, did a wonderful job teaching their sons to be the same way.
The trick is to keep the habit from staying within their parents home.

I do believe my sons will do just fine.
In our Home and someday, in their own.

Do you still want that offer to be a fly on the wall? If this hasn't backed up my sister's compliment, just seek out my husband, sons or our wonder dog, Marina, they'll back her up.

****how could my boys possibly get a butt pond when peeing? If they make a mess on the seat, and/or fail to the seat down afterwards, well, what's worse?

peeing sitting down?
Or ironing your peed on pants?

Dedicated to all the women of the world, that wish for that one week without pee on their toilet seat.

I'M OLD ASS ON A DESTINATION DATE

2011-01-21T17:56:00.000-08:00

Turned 36 recently.
I know some of you are not there yet, some of you are beyond in.
For me, it's part of the new drop down category on those multiple choice
questionnaires and forms that ask you to "select the box within your age range":
I'm in Box 3. I think.
Not sure how I'll feel about Box 4.
But just happy to have 36.
Enjoying it and not trying to stress about tomorrow.

Boys are wonderful.
Bigdog and I just returned from a "Destination Date."
A few days away while kids stayed with Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt and Uncle and Cousins.
It was so nice to privately get away.
Not too many people knew about it-
but not for reasons with what you may think-

Our worlds are so exposed this day and age.
Some by choice, others, not so much.

So it felt good to go the way of minimal exposure.
It felt good to just have some quiet moments on our own.

It doesn't have to be a big deal.
It just felt "nice."
To escape but miss being home and experiencing what has been explained as:
Ying and Yang.

It balances. So it works for everyone.
Even boys had a wonderful time away.
New experiences for us all.

The only one to suffer the most?
Our poor Marina.
We hired a dog sitter that lives close by. She'd spend 1hour per paid visit.
My sister and Brother in law also helped out.

We returned home and her face looks like it was beat up.
She was having an anxiety attack.
Welts all over her legs.
You'd think she had been bitten by Army Ants or something.

Her eye swollen and just looking all jacked up.

2 benedryl's later and amoxcillian for dogs,
she was fine.
The next morning.

Apparently it's separation anxiety.
Or "Hivin' Out."

Good thing is that Marina didn't need boarding, and as much as it must have been tough-when she was alone-when someone was here, she received 100% attention. The dog sitter even warmed up Marina's food with water in the microwave, but she fed Marina with a big spoon, on our couch.

Doesn't bother me.
What I mean is that it's okay for her to have been spoiled.
She deserves fun as well!
Only problem was when it came time for any of them to leave.
Too painful for her.

But, by the next morning, as I mentioned, she was fine.**

How are you?

* we recently became foster parents to two puppies. The boys named them Kitara and Zucko.
They are 13weeks and "ARF" rescued them from a High Kill Shelter in Kentucky.
I love "ARF!" We adopted Marina there. As you can tell, despite her codependent issues, she is truly Some amazing Little Girl! More about fostering the two puppies some other time.

this post has not been proofread or spellchecked.

IS IT IMPERSONAL?

2011-01-08T07:04:00.000-08:00

There are so many creative ways with technology, to show your gratitude. But are they too cold?
There are different online companies that will assist you with cards, calenders and anything you want captured and cherished. There's companies that will even send out the cards on the days you put into the computer. They'll take a copy of your "handwriting," and when they print the cards to be mailed out, they'll use a font as close to if not exact to match your handwriting.

The most work you need to do is risk carpel tunnel syndrome or tendinitis by sitting down on your duff entering in all the birthdays and anniversaries for the online company to personalize and you're just about finished. Aside from making the payment, of course.

But is that cold? Is it more valuable if you buy the card yourself and write out your thanks? Some people think so.

I love making cards by using the different online companies. Naturally each one has different perks, and values.

I think that if there's a good balance of old school and new, you don't ever run the risk of an ungrateful recipient.

But keep in mind that for some people that you are so sweet to think of, will never be happy with whatever your method may be, so in the long run, does it truly matter that you send Grandma a card directly from the online service you used?

It could matter. But the best way around this?

Use your kids and pets as props.
Even if it is still an online generated card, if you make your favorite little guys/gals and furs part of the thoughtfulness, even the oldest of old school Grammy can only complain about so much.

Here's the one I made recently for thank you cards.
Which I will also include a handwritten message in each one.

Classic Scarlet Thank You 5x7 folded card

Modern greeting cards and party invitations by Shutterfly.

View the entire collection of cards.

No, this is not a paid to post ad. This is just me showing you my card. You can actually create your cards and post them on blogger or other social media online sources.

I just wanted to show you my creation, and also to give you a peek at how much our boys have grown.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!
LOVE,
ONE CRUSTY MOM-E, BIGDOG DAD,
JACK, SULLY AND BEN
*and our Marina, too*

Got Nothin'

2011-01-01T20:11:00.000-08:00

I Got Nothin.
I don't know what's wrong with me.
There are things going on in my life, but I don't know how to get them out onto Internet Eco friendly paper. It's annoying too because I already prefer writing to talking to people, because I tend to ask too many questions, give long detailed answers, replies, responses, and I also experience verbal vomit. If I'm nervous about anything, the verbal vomit becomes acute colitis of the mouth, and it's Game Over! So when I find myself unable to write *here* it pisses me off.

It's not just *here* but it's on emails too. I don't want to write emails. I want to spend more time with people. But I don't want to talk to them because I'll puke last night's insomnia thoughts all over their lovely coiffed well groomed mouth.

I'm currently working on overcoming this DX of Constipational Communication. Can't get it out anywhere, text, you name it. I've also learned that you can love someone but realize that right now you cannot be around a toxic environment. Negativity. It eats at you.

No matter where it comes from, or who's throwing it up all over your dinner plate. Our body does get effects from negativity. Physical effects. I don't care what form of medicine you practice, emotions could care less that it's hurting our body, it's not their job. If that makes any sense to you.

People are just really annoying me right now. Not you, so don't worry. It's nothing or anything insane or crazy or frenetic or -wait those are all the same things!

It's a small very removed removed Kevin Bacon link. Actually, it's more the stories of these people that are pissing me off. The ones that you hear second hand thru your neighbor's neighbor. It's nothing bad, it's just for whatever reason the ducolax has not kicked in and I'm still backed up. Naturally it's easier to blame innocent parties then to take it on my own shoulders. So it's everyones' fault! LOL.

But I'm staying away from negative ions, because my body is just not in the mood for engaging physical symptoms for something toxic. The thought will infection the mind, and the emotions will make your body less healthy.

Since taking myself (with safe medical consultation)off certain prescriptions, and adding vitamins and some probiotic assistance, my body is making my emotions happy. So avoiding the toxic environment, like toxic medication is what my body needs.

Who knows, maybe there is a good in constipational communication syndrome? Sure the stomach hurts, and you can count on a massive grape pile, and a lot of contraction like laboring breathing exercises, and pushing will hurt. You'll probably clog the toilet. Naturally the toilet will be one at a relatives or in laws home. Probably the one house that has only one working toilet.

But at least you have time to prepare. Having constipational communication syndrome could be better then the sudden episodic worse then verbal vomit-the deceptive diarrhea.

Yes, it's time the boys go back to school.
All this talk of farts, and poops and other nonsense is starting to be part of my daily life.

Happy New awesome Year, okay?

I SWORE I WOULD NEVER LET THIS HAPPEN!

2010-12-18T12:30:00.000-08:00

I never used to be able to understand when people (meaning mostly, parents people) would complain about "all they have to do" before Christmas. That "it just doesn't feel like Christmas," or, "I'm not in any Christmas mood this year," could ever escape their mouths.

How could they NOT be in the mood? They have young children, which that in itself makes a sort of "re-birth" from our Christmas youth day. I swore I would NEVER let this happen. I would never be crabby and stressed or overwhelmed when it came to Christmas.

Christmas is relaxing, it's spiritual, it's a beautiful season.

There's laughter and always some sort of unforeseen drama that makes you laugh a couple of years later.

I've had 9 years of happy Christmas's. Even when the first year was full of sleep deprivation, mastitis, and Mylecon. I still put up a tree, and always decorated. I made time to shop for gifts, despite the fact that I had a little 8plus days week old baby.

You would have thought that I'd have been in that sort of blah mood then. Nope. Loved it. Even though Jackson couldn't open up the gifts let alone figure out how to put his tiny precious fingers into his mouth.

It happened this year.
It crept up on me.
I had forgotten all about those grum bum betty bah humbugs.

Then I caught myself whining to my Mom, "I just can't figure it out, but for some reason I am just not in the mood."

Shit.

But naturally, like everything else in life, it makes sense why people would say that. I feel bad that I would even scoff at those crabby Christmas Downers. But now that I'm there, I get it.

It may not be for the same reasons, but I became one of those this Christmas.
Thankfully the one I vented to, "got me," and understood why.
For no other reasons then time wasn't being fair to me this year.
Or perhaps I put too much on my plate, and shouldn't complain but suddenly it's down to the last week.

The good news is, I know have empathy and have gained something new this year.

I'm sure there are plenty more of the "I'll never say, do, act, think, THAT, again," In my future.

After all you're talking to someone that used to say to her friends, "how could any woman be too worn out to have sex with their husband?"

Sure enough, empathy was learned from that as well.

Pew Wipe My Butt?

2010-12-03T19:22:00.000-08:00

Sure it sounds gross.
Anything with Wipe and Butt in the same sentence most definitely will be distasteful and not what you serve for dessert during your Chrismukahwanzza celebration.

It might be confusing to others. Some may wonder how in the hell a pew wipes a butt.

Or perhaps there are some of you wondering what sort of new product is out there regarding butts and wiping.

The way you perceive the title, I would imagine, is based on what is currently going on within your emotional world, and your true physical world, what your present "role" is in life, (parent, grandparent, Dinks, Siom's, Sahm's, Sahf's, single, empty-nesting, lawyer, writer, I think you get the point) and anything else you want to mix to the soup of pew and wipe and butt titles.

If you're in the mood, I'm curious to know what your first thought was when you read the title of this post.
Before reading the content.
How accurate were you?
Not a big deal, just curious to know how your mind operates. After all, this blog isn't just about me.

Nevertheless, what sounds gross, and it is, is equally depressing.

Remember when your status went from Mommy to Mom? It's sort of like that. Or when your 9month old stopped breastfeeding? Like that too. After all you so don't want your 5 year old to be all freakishly attached to breast milk. Yet in the same sense, aside from knowing what your boobs will resemble after they pump out the last of their milk supply, your little guy or girl is growing up.
I think you can see why wiping a butt can be sad.
Still not convinced?
Let me try again.

For one, when Ben says, "Pew," what he's saying is, "Can you.."
It is so cute. Just like when the little man can't say his L's and is obessed with clocks from the Mickey Mouse show and whenever he sees clocks anywhere while we're out, rest assured you'll hear a little voice say, "Mommy, look at those wittle clocks." Or, "look at those big clocks."

But remember he can't say his L's yet.
It's that sort of cute. Make more sense now?
Secondly, he still believes that I do a better job of wiping his tushie then he does. As much as it's a gross task, especially when they've advance beyond diapers and into underwear, it's also a parental wake up call. You know what I mean, right? Where you are reminded that they're growing up fast, but they're still little enough to where you still have time left."

Ben still asks me to wipe his tushie after a doodie diver, but he has to handle the flush all on his own. The flashing flushing Benny. Don't take that job away from him, he prefers to do things all by himself.

Or in his words, "I dooo eettt."

Now I don't know how it is in your world, but for those of you that are presently parents of kids that are still living within your home ages 18 and under, do you experience similar parental wake up calls? Typically in bizarre moments? While in the midst of, say, in this case, wiping their butt?

Pardon me if this makes you blush, but for those of you that are parents to boys that are in high school, did you experience those familiar bursts of, "soon he will no longer need me," during say the "dream stage?"

To be more direct, is that the thought that crossed your mind when your teenage son suddenly became a champion at doing his own laundry? When he crossed over from the land of little guy, into the land of Suds and Soaps? The call rings as you're standing there witnessing your son stuffing his sheets into the washing machine? Stuffing them into the wash with the same mannerisms at not getting caught cheating on a test? Praying he doesn't get busted by you? Or just hoping that he won't be spotted from you.

It's okay if you don't get what direction I'm heading in. It's a good thing because you can click away in relief that your mind isn't as twisted as mine.

Either that or you're a freakin prude.

No offense.

So there I was, wiping his tush and suddenly it struck me that Ben is beyond 4.
He's 4.5 years old, and to any child, that extra .5 is a huge deal. They crave to do things themselves, but still want you to acknowledge their feats.

They're looking for you to praise them, to acknowledge that not only did you see them accomplish something, but that they did a fantastic job while doing it.

Naturally when they're teenagers, and experiencing the "dream stage" of life, they will need you in a different way. They won't want you to recognize something that they did, with gooey praise. They'd much prefer you remain mute, especially within the company of their buddies. They don't want a Mom that acts all cool and young, nor do they want a Mom interfering with their time. No matter what degree of Mom you are, when boys are teens, they don't want you to say, "it's time for your morning hug! I'm so proud of you for making your bed this morning. The way you took your time and did the best you could, that's such a good choice."

Dude, don't praise the teen boys. They'll shy further away.
Do they?

I'm not saying the only time you must praise your children are when they're young, far from it. Rather I'm saying that one day it's them asking for you to only wipe their butt, and then before you know it, they'll be asking for some money from your wallet.

It's your job to adapt to their changes, and figure out a different way to "praise them,"without making it sound like you're putting their pacifier in the dishwasher. Interrupt me if you disagree. Like I said, I don't know what they'll be like, nor do I have any idea what life will be like when my boys are teens. I'm going off of their current personalities as well as from watching my little brothers grow up.

Suddenly the image of wiping your little four year olds tushie doesn't sound bad, right? The fact that I am still able to recognize the ringing of that wake up call, is a good thing.

Just as quick as that you see the toilet paper disappear down within the depths of your hopefully clean and root and clog free sewer, is as quick as they grow up. Is as quick as each phase stops and another one starts.

Ben may still need me to wipe his butt after pooping in the potty, but he doesn't need me to flush the toilet for him, dress him, snap him, put his dishes into the sink when done eating, but I still need to acknowledge all the amazing things he's doing, even more so when he isn't looking for recognition, to balance out the "no part of me."

I don't know what it's like to be a parent to teenage boys, I'm sure it's remarkably fascinating and terrifying in the same. The one thing I feel I'm sure of, is that I really want this type of flashback someday. In the same fashion as I experienced the parental wake up call while my son is only 4 (and a half) while wiping his 4 (and a half) year old hiney. The flash that reminds me to appreciate the now, even if it's wiping down pews, I mean butts. To constantly praise my young children when they're not looking for it, and when they're looking for it. So that when I arrive down the road that some of you may be on presently, I'll be able to look back and remember these moments.

Ironically the reminder will be the same, only I'll remember far more of "all the times I had to wipe his butt, or clean up his puke, or cut his crusted finger nails from digging into dirt, or from making up fart songs and burp stories." The times we spent around the dinner table, having to remind them "elbows off," "mouth closed," "if it's bulging out of your mouth, there's too much in your mouth," "don't talk with food in your mouth....just typing it out is exhausting. During these wake up moments, the thought process will take me back to these very times. I'll remember saying that I need to enjoy the now, because the now is changing fast, and I'm not talking about just how far my boobs are sagging this year compared to last year.

I will miss the times when a word such as 'fart,' would cause sheer chaos and insane laughter at the dinner table. Not to mention their reaction to a true fart. The stories of gas, and bottomless poop holes, of teaching them how to make fart sounds by cupping their armpit and squeezing it down..

I'll even miss the times they were terrified of werewolves, and how scared they were when we were out driving past forests, or prairies, or forest preserves. Of when I had to drive home with my headlights on, despite daylight, since they expressed concern about the beefed up Wolf that grows from real sun. But if it were to be hit with, say headlights, it would cause them to explode. Tiny particulars that look like snow dust, right before your eyes. Because, if I didn't have my headlights on, and it jumped out in front of us, the natural sun would give it the strength to come into the car and sit down next to them.

Someday when I stand back and watch my grown sons soar off into their own canvas of hope, I'll be able to reflect on these moments, so that when the moments of tomorrow are truly here, I'll have the memories of the past to help me get out of my jolted parental wake up call.

In the meantime I must remember to acknowledge their positives, even if it's something as simple as, "Wow, Ben! You did Such a Great Job Flushing the Toilet!! Look at how nicely the paper is going into the pipes!"
Only after I finish wiping their butt.

THANKSGIVING IS SO NOT LIKE THIS ......

2010-11-24T18:31:00.000-08:00

Happy Gobbles and Gunk
How can you put up with this stuff?
I can think of some people,....

Who who, can you?
"Hoo Hoo"
said the owl
don't frown nor scowl
the pumpkins' in the turkey
the gizzards' in the pie
the jello is quite murky
Lets just all belch loud and sigh!

Poor Aunt Mable is stuck at the kiddie table
Dear Grand Maw Maw's sty fell out of her eye
Yet another example of why she's no longer quite able.

Someone soon farts and we know who to blame
The "One Upper" one ups time and again
The kiddies grow sullen over carrots in pie
Grand Maw Maw still can't find the sty from her eye.

To sit there and pout would be utterly lame
In all sense of insanity, pretend it's a game.

Round One is to see who gets the leg, heart, or thigh
There's always someone expressing "the dark meat's all mine!"
Suddenly Aunt Mabel lets out a loud shout,
"There's something funny floating right here in my meat pie!"

"Aunt Mabel, my dear, please do not lie,
Grand Maw Maw will accuse you of sinning, Oh MY!"

All the kids scream as they scramble away from Aunt Mabel!
This isn't a surprise to the parents at the adult table.
Someone tsk tsks from the corner of the room
Uncle Al claims that its just Santa,
but blame that on how much he's consumed.

Your ears try to listen amidst all of this mess
The "One Upper" one ups;
"I'm better at cooking then your dead Aunt Bess!"

Uncle Al belts out "looky here in my cup,.."
"Like I've always known, Wine is more potent then beer!"
Shaking your head you can't help but ponder;
Wondering quite frankly, what in good graces is going on in here?

Grand Maw Maw's claiming she just gave birth to a pup.
"That's nothing, said the One Upper,
"I've birthed 20... just right before this sup!"

Grand Maw Maw giggles a giggly giggle
her round ancient belly knocking over the jello.
"Hee Haww," snorts old senile Grand Maw Maw.
The poor jello shivers and jiggles while splat on the floor.

And just when you think there's not much more you can take:
with the "One Upper" one upping,
and all the ruckus Uncle Al's drinking does make.

No thanks to all that liquor,
There goes your Uncle,
stark naked, and running
stark naked and running
over your last blooming fall flower.

Aunt Mabel's voice you hear with such power,
"Lookie at that, Al's outside peeing the size of a lake!"
Because of all this, Grand Maw Maw's now had it,
"take me home, now, this is far too much crazy
my old mind can take!"

And As Grand Maw Maw stands up from the table,
fed up with all of this insane nonsense with crazy Aunt Mabel,
The tsk tsker appears from within the other room,
"Yea," he says, with the sound of such gloom.

Aunt Mabel cries out, her voice so very loud,
with tears in her eyes, her lips kissing the sky,
"You've found what I'm missing!"
"The crusted sty from my eye!"

"Indeed I have," says the annoying tsk tsker,
his finger assuming the role of nose picker.
"I really appreciate being here,
with all of you present
and this thankful thanksgiving meal."

"Delicious, amazing, and something I'd never be able to make,
a toast is due, to the host of all hosts,
may you have much laughter, much more then you can take!"

and with that those present, raised up all their glasses,
even Grand Maw Maw's cup rose up for the occasion.
(despite the fact that it moved just as slow as molasses.)
Happy and laughing they did all rejoice.
Laughing and thanking the tsk tsker that toasted.

"What about me?" whined the classic One Upper.
"After all, if it weren't for me, this tsk tsker wouldn't be here at this supper!
For I am the one that deserves all the credit."
The One upper goes on, "I refuse to allow any of you to con me,
because it was I that invited our dear sty finding Donnie."

Happy Thanksgiving!
I hope you're able to gobble it up before it gobbles up any of you. :P)

VIDEO GAME VICTIM

2010-11-20T08:33:00.000-08:00

How many of you are video game players?
How many of you are parents of video game players?
How do you feel about video games?
The kids that play them?
The games themselves?
How long is too long?
Is there a filter for ratings within your home?
Do you even go down that road?
*keep in mind, that when I say "video games," I mean games that can be played on the computer: (yes, webkinz does count), on facebook, on your cell phone, on your hand held portable game systems, and naturally the ones on TV.*

The "VIDEO GAME" topic within our home is a very sensitive one.
It causes more "discussions," then the topic of finances. Which I've been told is the most common argument between married couples, especially those that are raising children.

It's a virus within our house. Something that cannot be cured. One believes one way. The other something completely different. You say green boogers means virus, I say yellow boogers mean virus. The fact of the matter is, how can parents come to an agreement about video game playing? Especially if the two people have very different vantage points of the games and what they can do to children.

Do you think that playing video games for more then 20minutes is too short? How much is too much?

It's a volley of back and forth chatter:
"it's too violent....................
and that will eventually impact their behaviors............"

"it's been on too long.....................
and that will eventually impact their eye sight...."

"it's too easy to use as a way to get them out of your hair.............
and that will eventually lead them to believe that the best way to raise their own children someday is to turn on the video game systems to by the parents some time to, surf the website..."

There is conflicting opinions and for some of the researching I haven't discovered any "facts of true facts."

Yes, in our house the discussion of video games will cause far more disagreements vs how to manage our finances.

How do you come to a simple solution?
I have been told that the effects of too much video game playing aren't seen until many years later.

I wonder if I were to contact eye doctors from around the area, and ask them if they've seen an increase in children, (and whether it's higher in boys vs girls) with eye issues. Astigmatism. Farsightedness. Need to wear glasses although neither Mom or Dad had eye problems growing up.

Something tells me that if I were to research this some more, I might discover that there is an increase in eye disorders, and more boys are now wearing glasses, then girls.

Or is this particular topic just another example of just two people with different opinions due to many different aspects?
You tell me.

Not sure How to Title, "Crime."

2010-11-07T17:32:00.000-08:00

Let me start by saying that this is nothing that has happened to me or my family, more a realization from reading the Police Blotter constantly.

Here's the thing I just realized tonight, and perhaps it's always been at the surface, but it's never been a "wait a second," thought. When I said it to Brian, it makes sense:

It seems that to bail out, the bond is always higher on drug crimes, then sexual assault crimes. Maybe it just seems more. Maybe I am more aware? Not the difference in statement and question.

For the most part, people that do drugs choose to do them. They choose to take the cocktail. They pay for the illegal heroin, crack, cocaine,..etc..They bring it in, distribute it and you opt to buy it.

In a sex crime act, for all guilty, the victim is NOT given a choice. They do not pay money for this. Prostitute is entirely different, to me, then sex offenders, and sex crimes.

It all boils down to whether you chose or someone took that value away from you in the most private and emotional way?

They should have bond right up with anyone on a 1st degree murder charge. Harsh, I know.
But what's the difference of what I say, vs what they get?

It scares me. At least lately. In the papers.
STOP READING THEM!!
I know, I should, but again, what's wrong with some awareness. Is it better to be in the dark? Ugh.

I hope I haven't confused you because I've already managed to "confusion myself." To think that this is where I go to actually get out the right words and phrases on online paper..

With that I blame it all on the "fall back" hour change. It's killing my kids.
Today, up at 5:01am.

That doesn't include the recent rekindle Ben has experienced of Ho-Ho Nightmares.
It's been fun.

wanted on drug charges, then in this cirumstance(s), then for sex offenders. Or is it just my ignorance.

Do I have a problem with the crime? No. What bothers me is bond is set higher, almost everytime I

NOT WORTH A TITLE!

2010-11-05T14:21:00.000-07:00

How many of you are so tired of the candy that may be surrounding your cabinets/cupboards/pantries?

Or do you wish you had more of those yummy favorites from the past?
I'm sure it's a nice balance of both.

The funny part?

No matter how old I get, no matter what bag or means of storage it starts off in,
Halloween candy smells the exact same way that it did when I was Wonder Woman, with a pink pillowcase to hold my candy.

Flavors have changed. Heavens, even ingredients too! But no matter, the smell of Halloween is always the same, and for some reason, as hard as it is to say goodbye to Summer, it's a fantastic way to start the "purgatory" of Fall and Winter.

I hope you are all well, and I imagine this is a favorite time of year for Dentists and Oral Surgeons.

*yes that's a picture of Ben in his awesomely inexpensive Ninja costume. Was a Ninja the costume of choice for all the boys by you? Or perhaps, like us, we are all carefully watching the economy instead of the talking witch that flies when you walk by? So instead we steer them towards boy/man dress ups, that can also be used throughout the year, and for $7.88, you really can't beat that.

Especially when your youngest decides to be spiderman at the last minute. Stuffing himself in Jack's 6year old Spiderman Halloween costume. The ripped shoulders, frayed leggings, it's scary enough that I haven't tossed it yet. However, mix it with this costume from the image above, and a Pirate hat and you have the best cross dressing kid yet.

(at least in Mom-E's eyes)

CUI

2010-10-21T06:38:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a world before the technology of today surfaced. I'm sure each generation has something to say about the change.

Quite obviously there is a big change with each one.
That we already know that.

I remember the yellow phone cord being stretched around the kitchen wall into the living room where it attached to the piece that was pushed up against my Mom's ear, as she sat on the stairs and chatted away with the same people. It drove me crazy.

I can remember those moments as clear as day, although I was only a little girl.
There was no cordless phones yet, definitely not "you've got mail," or even unlimited long distance. You called beyond 15miles and you would pay a crap load of money.

Which is why whenever she'd speak to her parents, she'd call them, ring once, hang up, and they'd call back. My Grandma and Grandpa didn't want my parents paying the cost of dialing from one county to the next.

I remember dreading the phone time because she would just disappear into the yellow ear and mouth piece. (What was the correct name for that anyway? I'm stuck on earpiece.)

I could never understand why; a) she could sit that long and talk to her mother in law, mom, or sisters, b) she'd get so annoyed with us if we tried to get her attention
c) when the conversation was over, after she had hung up the phone, you could expect a "lecture" on respect. On what was deemed rude; walking up to her when she was on the phone, and talking to her about a certain need we had at that moment in our life, without first saying, "excuse me," or, "pardon me."

Drove me crazy.

As a parent now, and it can apply to anyone, but you realize more about your parents when you truly become one. No matter what makes you become a parent, by birth, by marriage, by choice or by surprise, the moment your children are old enough to talk, you get what you put your parents through.

You become annoyed at the very.same.things.they.did. Except you gain far more understanding because your parents had limited options when it came to communication(s).

As a young girl, my Mom never talked to my Dad during the day. He was at work, and granted he was a plumber, but still, if there was an emergency, if one of us were sick and required a visit to the ER, she'd call the office, speak to the secretary, and leave a message. The secretary would then advise the boss, and the boss, or another one of the plumbers at the shop at the time, would drive out to the location where my dad was, to deliver him the message.

I wonder if the same went for any of you who's parents had a true desk job. Did your Mom actually call your dad during the day? From what I can recall with my young friends and their parents careers, the Mom's never called the Dad's during the day, to chat. It was frowned upon, and I'm pretty certain it was not really a respectful thing to do, even if the Dad ran the company.
It was an obvious understanding that work is work, and personal time is personal time.
You didn't mix the two at all. Adults of yesterday saw that, and honored that. They knew the "pardon me" and "excuse me" rules that come with making a living and supporting a family.

If for some reason you needed to reach your working spouse, you would have one way to do so; use of the warehouse/shop/office/building/gas station pay phone.

But if you didn't have any change with you?
"Fuddle sticks!"
You forgot to empty your work pants from the day before. All that much needed change sat at home, snug in the pickle jar that your wife had on the shelve near the laundry supplies. Because Mom's back then, checked pockets for everything.
Do you?

Thankfully back then, if you found yourself out of change, there was that option to make a "collect call." Quick fix, back then, if you didn't have any change. But oh boy did you pay for it when your phone bill arrived-especially if the at home parent made a local toll call beyond 15miles and stayed on the phone for roughly 15minutes. Your bill would be insane! Hell, the charges alone for local toll were bad enough, mix in the collect call charge, game over.

In a sense this is exactly today's version of those payday loan companies. A quick fix due to the fact that you were out of "change," a quick hand over of your pay stub and you're golden for the time. But oh boy did you pay for it in interest when the time arrived for pay back!

When you think about how blessed/cursed we are today, to have so many media options to stay socially connected, and yet, as parents, we still get annoyed at our kids when they interrupt us texting someone, or emailing friends, or blogging. We have so many more options then our parents did to stay in touch, and yet it still interferes with our children.

We should be less likely to get ticked at our children with all that we have today. My Mom was a stay at home Mom, she didn't have much of a life outside of the house raising 5 children. Her escape was talking to her Mother in law, Mom, or sisters on the phone. Being limited to the length of the ever tangling yellow phone cord that we would turn into monkey bars when she really was ignoring us.

It must have hurt like hell to have that phone piece pulled from under the poor Mom's ear, as she used her shoulder to hold up the rest of the phone so she could stir the boiling egg noodles on the stove top at the same time.

That was what technology of yesterday dubbed, "multi-tasking."

My Mom was limited. She didn't call my Dad at work, because you just didn't do that.
He was there for a reason, to do his job, to work, that was an expected, and unless it was an emergency, you did not call Dad at work.

My goodness, even when it came to the TV, my Mom was limited. She'd have to get up and walk to the TV to not only turn it on, but to turn the knob to pick the right channel that aired her favorite soap opera. If she happened to have to pick a child up from school, she would miss the episode. No going back. (No, my Mom didn't do soap operas, but you get where I'm going with this.)

She was limited.
My Mom without a doubt gave more to us and gave up more for herself, then I believe I do now.

I've thought of this before, and written of it before, and yet I'm still modeling the same habits.

I cannot imagine how my boys must feel when they are trying to get my attention and I am too busy texting, to notice them. Or when I am online, and they want to go outside and play; how I can just tune them out, focusing on another world inside wires and gadgets to make me feel "connected to the real world."

Are you kidding me??!!
The real world is the one where my children need me.
Talk about a Matrix of confusion.

Before the promoters get all puffy, yes, it is okay to have some "me time." The "yellow phone cord" version of me time today. But talk about how much we take advantage of all that we have today to be unlimited. Or "real." Sadly, it's probably doing more damage to our children, then we realize.

In my opinion, we're laying the future fiber optic pathways with our children, to grow up being ignored. To grow up realizing that technology trumps them.

Chances are, if I continue on the same path that I'm on with all this stuff, I will be raising 3 sons to communicate with me the same way that I am communicating with others of today; by a gadget. If that's okay with you, you will be fine. I'm envious. But no offense, I'd rather have a hug versus a tweet from my grown adult children someday.

Plus, I will have to witness the damage I did to my children; I'll see my grandchildren being ignored by their parents.

Yikes! Not a very good feeling!

Of course as I said before, now that I'm a parent, I can't tell you how bad I feel for trying to interrupt my Mom's time. How jacked is it that I would get annoyed with my Mom for needing that escape. An escape that still had her limited and tied to one area, yet it was probably just what she needed to get through her day of 5 silly kids jumping off the bed.

She was limited.
We today, are not.

Ironically all this chatter about how we can just tune out our children because of technology, and how we're damaging our children, and yet, I'm doing it as I type. Ben is sitting next to me, watching TV while I blog away. The moment he interrupts me, I get annoyed.

OMG! I am such a hypocrite. Guilty as charged.

There's been shows based on technology abuse as of lately. Sitcoms that have similar story lines.

There's been articles about technology abuse and the affects it's having on our children's development and growth. Yet, here I am, clacking away on a laptop that I can carry anywhere around my house.

Pathetic.

So how do we turn down the volume of technology abuse? How do we balance? How do we slow down? Some of us could quit cold turkey, and find how much of a relief it is, some of us need to be shown or told how to reduce our time, some just prefer to remain as they are. But if you were to discover perhaps that you are suffering from an abusive relationship with your technology toys, how would you go about changing it?

Here are some ways I've tried to curb it: I don't text when I'm driving. I don't text when I'm at a stop light. It's very infrequent, compliments of my brother's car accident, that I talk on the cell phone when I'm driving. As of late, I refuse to talk on my cellphone even while waiting for the light to turn green. I've been turning my cellphone off at night, and I am trying to limit my online time.

Key word, trying.
"It's not easy!!"

My approach with this is in baby steps.

I owe it to the technology world for making me realize this. For making it happen.
Recently within a 2 day time span, my cellphone malfunctioned and I was left without. Having to wait over the weekend and one overnight for a replacement. At the same time, I got the blue screen of death on my laptop, which meant absolutely no online time, and not even any computer "my documents" time.

Then my cordless phone battery stopped taking a charge.
I was left to use my wall phone that is tucked somewhere in the kitchen, on the wall, strictly for a home decor accent piece. It is a working phone, and it's not yellow, it's red. But it has a cord and I can only walk 2 full steps before I'm pulled back to the reality that unless I want to replace drywall, I'd best stand still to talk.

It was because of all of the malfunctions of my "real world," that forced me to realize how relaxing it is to not have it around. I didn't have to get that guilty feeling if I didn't reply immediately to someone that sent me a text. Technology forced me out of her nest, and I had to learn quickly how to fly away from it. Thankfully technology had me in a tall tree, so I was able to have more time then usual to acclimate myself to the quick approaching soil down below.

Yet, even with the Mommy bird of Technology shoving me out of her nest, I still have a long way to go with this "on demand" addiction. A long way.

This recovery definitely takes time. There are definitely more then 12 steps in this program.
Going on a guesstimate, I would say there as many pages in your newest "real world" touch technology owners manual, as there are steps to recover from this particular type of addiction.

Side thought: "Do any of you actually read those manuals? Those crazy instructional booklets that arrive banded together with your newest "eye see you" pad or "robotic" touch phone?
Just curious."

Yes, technology can be a curse. Unless you're totally chill with not having a real relationship with your someday grown adult children. You are fully prepared to have a relationship based on the "you've got grown children communication mail" chime.

Because they will be so adjusted to what the "real world" of tomorrow will be like, compliments of what you've taught them, that your only communication with them will come from things requiring charges.

Yes, it's that damaging.
This is based strictly on current experience that the road my children are heading down, if I continue on the path that I'm on right now in the world of chirps, and tweets, they are destined to repay me in the same way.

A yellow phone cord to the wall did not damage my childhood. It actually helped me when I became a parent, because for once I got it. My Mom worked her tail off everyday, it was only fair she have stair time with that yellow cord.

Me on the other hand? As I said above, when I stop to think about how my actions with all this crap will have on my kids for tomorrow, it's not a pretty picture.

CUI:
Communicating Under the Influence.
When it impairs your ability to function in any sort of task. Whether it may be driving, or even something as simple as taking your kids to the park. If it interferes with your abilities to parent properly, you will be under the influence of too much communication/connections.

MY OWN CREATIVE EXAMPLE (steal it, or borrow it, and you'll owe me royalty funds):

wife: "Honey, I got a CUI today at the park."
husband: "were you with the kids when this happened?"
wife: "yes, but I didn't get a childhood communication endangerment charge."
husband: "how'd you manage that?"
wife: "the cop recognized my face from his wife's facebook friend list, and cut me a break."

That's what happens when we have more then one "yellow phone cord" that we constantly have in use. When we huff and puff and blow our sons Lincoln logs down because, gasp, they needed to pull me away from my online social media connections, to come wipe their tushie after a visit on the toilet.

I can make blogging my "yellow cord." I'm even okay with saying goodbye to Facebook.
(When I arrive on that particular step of the this recovery program.)

Do I have to give up my cell phone, and the features that come with it? Absolutely not. But I can limit the time spent with it all. I can schedule my "find a pay phone time," or my "collect call time." Technology doesn't have to be constant, if I don't want it to. Granted there is this one "APP" that is very useful; "Hi, it's Pam, I'll be dropping off an egg or two for you later today, so unless you want more kids, avoid coitus." Beats having to answer this question from your kids; "Mom-E, why do you always draw hearts and stars on different days each month on your calendar?"

It's still okay to limit how much of it you use. It is okay for the technology within my world, to collect dust.

Just like those heavy ass encyclopedia volumes collected dust on my parents book shelves back when I was growing up. Sure they were used, and on occasion it wasn't always for good -looking up dirty words or pictures- but it can be limited, and not abused.

If you're willing to let your own brain rule how you run the "real world" of technology.

HOW TO BE "in lawed"

2010-10-03T06:40:00.001-07:00

How many of you are sister in laws?
How many of you happen to be a sister in law to your husband's one sibling?
A sister?

What's it supposed to be like?
Do you think it's more difficult to be a good sister in law, if you didn't have a sister growing up?

I have this warped sense of how things "should be," in Pleasantville.

Maybe I'm the one going about it the wrong way. I don't know.
What I do know is that I don't expect anyone to be like me, but I do expect to be respected and included.

Only because the same goes for the other side. Heaven forbid if you don't contact them on their birthday, send them what they want for their showers, remember to check in with them when they've been under the weather.

What's funny is, the same isn't expected to give back. Whereas I don't believe you give to get back, I do believe it's nice to see the other side trying, to the best of their capabilities.

Is it okay to not include the sister in law in things? Even though you know that if you ever attempted to exclude your sister in law's husband, there would be drama.

Thoughts?

YESTERDAY IN JULY of 2006

2010-09-25T10:00:00.000-07:00

I'd like to think that I'm organized. I try hard to maintain that sort of mania that drives the guys to manic when I am requested that they continue to keep up the looks of how things are placed.

Our new home has given us new space, to store things. Naturally the house takes time to be put where it should be, and it is slowly working itself out. In the past I would have had to have it all "right," within 2weeks of moving in, but I have slowed down my urge to put everything in it's place immediately. Better for me to enjoy it in doses, which works.

But one thing I suck at, is pictures. I'm serious, I S.U.C.K P.I.X.E.L.S. If you were to walk into our home, and I were to show you around, you would see one hallway closet recently painted a happy blue, with all the board games on the top shelf, spaced and stacked based on size. You would see a table in that closet as well, with an area for the boys homework. Each folder, with their names, so they know where to put their work for the week. If that system wasn't in place, we would be overwhelmed with papers. It's crazy the amount of papers that come home from their backpacks.

You would see as we walked upstairs a small cabinet that when opened, would have picture albums in it. There are a good amount stored in this whatever you call it piece of furniture.

But if you were to sit down and pull out each album, browsing through each one, you would view more of my past as a little girl, teenager, voting age, drinking age, having Jackson, getting married, and one more unfilled one, that has such sweet adoring pictures of Sullivan when he was just a baby. When we still lived in Florida, our fun home on the lake. But that would be it.
Inserts remain yet to be filled.

It's pathetic that I haven't updated my pictures. It makes me nuts. The more I picture it, the more annoyed I get at my poor follow up. I have yet to get any of my 1000+ pictures, off of the online storage sites that I belong to. Not one of the online prints from the past, are in albums.

Sure I've managed to get a few off my camera from this wedding or that shower to put in my framed wall pictures, but nothing in albums.

I could start with the most oldest album and order print by print one new album in one month. Then I could buy more albums. But to start something like that will be time consuming and expensive. So for now I continue to take as many pictures as I can, and upload them onto my online picture webpage. I've started somewhere, which is good. But I'd much prefer to be here, in albums, upstairs in that cabinet next door to the boys bedrooms.

I decided to start it today. Small. I had to get some pictures off my camera anyways, so I figured "while I was there," except just like my real albums, I got caught up in looking at a majority of albums online.

I'm browsing my online albums and then I get to July of 2006: when I had Ben.

I should be happy to see how amazing that time was. I shouldn't sit here and get lumpy. As Brian said to me, "why be depressed about it, instead look at it and be glad you have experienced it." He's so right, I know. But unless you're a woman you cannot understand why. Carrying the boys for 9months, and the waiting and the newborn exhaustive stage, and so on..is hard. No matter how many you have. It gets easier, and you gain more confidence, you learn what to relax on, and what to work on, and you recognize the different personalities of each little one. It's hard, but amazingly fun, in the same, if that makes sense.

But that's behind me now.
It's obvious from all the albums. The last 9months I experienced ended in July 2006. The one where we were told I was losing the baby. The baby that took us awhile to create, ironically. I'll never forget that drive home, alone in my car passing my old Highschool crying on the phone to my Dad about what was going on. That was how my parents found out that Brian and I were expecting our 3rd child. Me calling my dad to try to reach my Mom telling her I was on my way home to lay in my bed until I pass the "embryo." As the Doctor put it. It's not a viable pregnancy. They knew from the "internal ultrasound."

Ever see one of those? The wand for the internal ultrasound? It makes those Lovers Lane products appear to be made for sissies.

All this occurring sometime at the beginning of December.

But, of course, for only the Universe knows why, the little being inside of me didn't leave. It grew and kicked the hell out of my ribs more so then the other 2.
He arrived and he was a happy boy.

So seeing all of those images, brought back every ounce of emotion that wasn't just from Ben, but also from Sullivan, and Jackson. I felt every second of every pregnancy in a matter of minutes, as I sat looking through all the pictures of Ben's birth.

It reminded me, as I already said, that those "parts" of the scares and the celebrations that new life brings, were now all behind me.
I'm not sure that I like that too much.
I'm not saying I'd want them to stay little.
I'm saying that I wish it wasn't over.
"That part" of my life being over.

It's been that way for awhile now. I have a pretty good idea why, but the fact is, that right now, whenever I look at pictures of my babies actually being a few hours old, or the pictures that contain my first kiss to my son's pink gooey cheeks, makes me want more first kisses. More kids.
Insane, right?

I wonder how many women experience this. I wonder how long it lasts. I wonder what they do to work through it. How do they know it's just because everyone else is walking around with bumps.

It has nothing either, this time, to do with having a girl. I have dreams of having more children. Ironically each dream I have, I'm having a boy. Each dream I have a different name for each son. So far I've had 3 more sons, in my dreams. So, again, it's not the girl thing. Although I do have a killer name for a little girl that would suit this family.

I am just hopeful that this "phase," is just that. A phase. A short phase. Because we're into the 2ND trimester of this short phase and I'm really hoping I'm not going to carry pregnancy dreams of desiring other little men for the next 5months.

Ironically, as I had just summed up my last paragraph, Brian comes downstairs and says, "Do you know Ben is outside?" Um, no I didn't. I'm in here typing this and Ben was just here having me load up Jackson's clonewars gun. I didn't hear him open the front door, or run around our front yard with 2 other boys from down the street.

Maybe that's "you know who," reminding me what my max capacity is. Because the little bammer managed to open the door, leave it partially open, while I'm in here whining about wanting more.

Go figure.
At least Ben didn't let the dog out, and I am grateful that he's smart enough to stay in the front yard. He does have that going for him. Plus after bringing him in immediately, he knew he was busted. He burst into tears because he knew how poor of a choice had just made. When I asked him, "you know you've made a poor decision, you know because your eyes are crying." "What decision did you just make to cause this?"

His reply in the midst of tears? "I wowee Mom-E I wen oudide wif me sochs just."
Well, what can I say, that was a first as well.
I'm also grateful that he'll never do this again, because of the "chat" we just had.

It's okay, you can slam my mother skills, I'm not perfect at all.
But at least this experience was a first.
It will be a last as well.
Lesson learned on my part.
Another first.
Glad that this is one of those things that will never repeat itself.

Now, if you'll excuse me, my little bammer needs some snuggling.

LOL Part II

2010-09-14T18:40:00.000-07:00

Our boys would fuss about school. In their bedroom. Perhaps as they rode the bus into school. But they were relieved that Mom didn't glue their favorite blankets to their bus passes and their Xbox stayed where it belonged.

Yet as much as some things were improving in our home, (which seems like months, when only it's been 2weeks, 9 days of education) I just knew that things in school were not improving.

And that's when we realized, BigDog and I, that we were going about this all.the.wrong.way.
Because that's what parents do.We screw up.In doing so, we screw up our kids by manipulating them into thinking that we would actually make them bring their blankets to the bus stop, parade them around all the kids in line, while making them sing the song that I taught them; (think Elmo's world song) "LA LA LAH LAH, LA LA LAH LAH, Meet my blankieeeeeeeeeeeee. HE is my friend, until the end. MYYY blankie. He is what I need, so, I will not cryiiiiiiiii. My blankie, I still suck my thumb, blankie, I'mmmmm not a baby world!!!"

Although I will honestly say, that with this form of shall we say, shock therapy, works with our 2 older son's personalities, we needed some positive reinforcement as well.

All we had to do was think of what they love the most.
What they would work the hardest for.
What they are no longer permitted to do, since school started.

From that point on out came the charts.
Charting their required daily necessaries, their weekly chores in addition to the standard "make your bed, put your clothes away," the stars and stickers on good behavior days. Done simply.

We call her "the Behavior Lady." Each section of her from Hat to her silly boots are a certain color. Each color represents a zone of where they need to be. The higher you go, the better decisions you're making. You get in the green zone, you're going to set yourself back a couple days.

It's working because they get a kick out of selling each other out when one of them gets near her "stinky yucky black socks."

If they can consistently remain above the "green zone," then they will be rewarded.

The reward if they can achieve it, will be 30minutes of video games.

This, my friends, is called the Labor Of Love.

Both Sides

2010-09-11T18:55:00.000-07:00

I haven't forgotten about you.
Or the last part of the back to school story.
I had intended to post that tonight, but then, "kids happened," and I have to get this off my chest;

Are you a parent?
How old are your children?
If you're not a parent, you're obviously someones daughter or son, and that being the case what are some items that stand out with their parenting styles from when you were a child?

I've been on both sides of this fence.
I will admit it.
But never have I been on the 3rd part of the fence, or at least from what I can remember.
Until today.

Today I found myself on the 3rd part of the fence. The part that might hurt if you sit down on it.
Have you ever found yourself in a restaurant and witnessed a family with out of control children? The parents making ridiculous "if you don't," statements, impossible to follow thru on?
You know the, "if you don't eat your butter burger I'm going to call your teacher.." "who's phone number I do not have."
You're there, you're seeing this, what do you do?
Do you do?

I have done 2 things with this fence.
I have played the 'Audience' and the "Avoidance."
Before you get all, "that so is not the right way to word it. Not here it isn't.
Here you CAN use it in that format, just as much so as when you over hear a woman tell another one of her friends out at a bar, "I'm sooo going to get cougared tonight." Or, "I am going to cougar when I'm out tonight." The only difference is that my word, 'Avoidance,' doesn't lead to sex. Matter of fact, 'Avoidance' is what happens many years after the night of being cougared.

I can't tell you what feels worse right now. Although I have never cougared anyone. So to compare on something I don't know, isn't really fair of me. Plus I don't ever plan on cougaring someone, unless its part of the RP factor.

Anyyyyyyhoooooooooo..............................,
What happens in 'Avoidance,' when you're a parent, is to ignore the stage that is breathing obscene gestures around you. These stage dwellers are not part of the category deemed friends or family. They're strangers. The only thing you have in common with these people is the restaurant you're seated in.

Being me, typically I ignore the situation. As a Mom I can imagine the humiliation the parent(s) must feel at that point, so I try very hard to avoid looking at them. Plus who knows what else may be going on outside of the restaurant: death, an illness, a divorce, a sickness, college football, cosmetic surgery, hemorrhoids, you just don't know what sort of dysfunction is going on back at their empty home.

Which is why I prefer to ignore it.

However there are times that I cannot.help.but.to.watch.the.stage. I'll watch and at the same time, I'll be whispering to the boys to "look at that and understand how disrespectful that child is acting towards their Mom or Dad" sort of dialogue.

Sort of like how you'd translate a subtitle on a movie to someone illiterate.

The fence is based on double A; 'Audience' or 'Avoidance'.

Except for tonight.
Guess what?
Do you soooooooo know where I am heading with this?
If you're a parent, you will. If you're not a parent, but someones child, you will as well. You don't have to be a parent to get this situation, because you yourself have been privy to this at some point of your life.

Tonight, I was the one on stage with my children, and the audience was everyone in "CULVERS."
The third and sharp part of the fence. The one part of the fence that feels sorta rotted.

There are no excuses for this. Except to blame myself. Because respect isn't born, it's taught.
Somehow I failed today on it.

I failed after I was cool with Jack and Sully spending the afternoon at their cousin's house.
I failed after I was cool to take my boys after spending $20.00, to a rubber ducky river race, in support of the town's river rebuild.
I failed after I told them to stop throwing sticks as 1000+ yellow ducks floated past everyone on the embankment towards the self inflated finish line.
I failed after I approached the 5 police officers congregating around the table outside the beer tent, after I asked them if they would pose in a picture with my boys. Well, my three boys, their cousins and the 5 police officers.

Correction, at least with the Police it was only a one person fail, versus all 3. Because the 1 failed attempt at doing something fun was Sullivan.
He refused to have a picture with them. Should I be myself and say, "I am not going to label Sully and assume that he's going to be a trouble maker when he's a teenager because he refused to have a picture taken with police officers?" I didn't think so. Except I do have to say he refused to take a picture with some soldiers at another event sometime back in August before school started.

I failed after I spent $ for the oldest to go do a 9hole mini golf that was part of this first ever river redo celebration. It was neat to see the mini golf set up as it was build and designed by the boy scouts of this town. Simple, and creative and just the way I like things.

I failed after I spent $ so that my middle and youngest could go jump in a bounce house with their cousin.
I failed.
Plan and simple.

Because I had to add one more level to this cake, way to much of a good thing, and took them out to eat after we went to this cute occasion in the downtown of where we live.
You guys, my 3 sons acted like douche nuggets in this restaurant. Mainly Ben. Although Jackson sure was a big groupie to the antics of Ben.

Don't even get me started on Sullivan.
I can list in detail the poor decision making skills they displayed this evening, but it's best to sum it up with 2 words for this event;
I failed.

Tonight, I became the one on stage and I heard another table (A Dad and Mom with their 2 kids) say, "it's a testament to how the parents do at parenting, based on how respectful their children are to them. I'm proud of how you're acting here."

Although I have to admit that this particular table had tween girls. Okayyyyy "Papa Don't Preach," Let's meet up when they're 16, shall we? Although I do agree with what he said to them, as much as I'm poking fun at what could be his future, it's nothing that I haven't said to my boys. I've used very similar words when I've been part of the 'Audience.'

What happened was that my children blatantly disrespected me tonight.
In front of their Aunt.
Their cousins.
Themselves.
The Public.
Me.

How do I do a better job at teaching respect?
I don't want to do it with 100% fear, although a certain amount of fear is necessary.
I don't want to do it with 100% control, although parenting with control is necessary too.
I don't want to do it with ignorance and closed for business ears, although sometimes it's best to turn your head and let them figure it out.
I don't want to enable. I don't want to make them victims.
I don't want to put soap in their mouths-but I will. I will spank too, although 100% of discipline based on spanking isn't necessary either.

Holy Uterus!! It was far easier caring for a fish with Pop Eye, then it was getting three boys to eat their very healthy french fries for Olive Oyl sakes.

Have I mentioned I'm BIG on the respect thing?
No matter why, what, or how, the fact remains that children need to be taught respect. They need to be taught self control, self love, self confidence, empathy, sympathy, giving, taking, loving, sharing, walking away.{ INSERT OTHER LESSONS HERE}

When they act like they did tonight, and disrespect me, not as teenagers, but boys that are 4, 6, and 8, it's not their blame, it's mine. I as the parent is failing.
I am failing.
I failed.
Well, I failed with this is the point I'm trying to get across.
I'm not sitting here crying about it, but what I am doing is trying not to over analyze it too much, and instead try to figure out how to make it better. How to mix the right balance of respect, self control, strictness, guidance and whatever else accompanies the chicken noodle soup of raising 3 very active noodles.

Children are not born with respect, they are taught it.

I'm looking for some more ideas in my own parenting wish bowl, because right now I've over analyzed it and cannot think past the image of the restaurant showdown tonight. I've got nothing to draw from my wish bowl jar, I'm clear out of ideas.

You've been part of the 'Audience' before, right? If so, what did you think, what did you do and what did you say you'd never do, "when you have/had kids."

You've been part of the 'Avoidance' fence post too, right? If so, tell me what you did.

You don't have to admit if you're been part of the pokey part of the fence such as I was this evening. Because that won't fix this. You are welcome to share them but you do not have to. What I'm looking for is ideas to put back into my very empty, yet dust free wish bowl.

"LOL"

2010-09-04T17:13:00.000-07:00

Ahh to be a fly on the wall of a home that hosts 3 little men and their dirty feet.
What a crazy past 2 weeks its been.

Thank you so much for all your suggestions.
All your advice was so helpful, and I took all of it to heart.

Sadly as the week worn on, it became even more evident just how miserable they were.
They, meaning Jack and Sully, became far more verbal about how much they couldn't stand school. How much they both wanted to go back to their old school, from last year.

Every morning at the bus stop, they'd walk down the street, with their head hanging between their shoulders. What cranky and Grumpy little Guses they were. This may sound harsh, but they reminded me of little babies, whining and fussing, due to gas bubbles.

I will admit as well, the verbal drama got old very fast.
So here's what we did:

Because of their antisocial behavior at the bus stop, and the way they'd putz around all sad while the other kids horsed around, I came up with "MOM MANIPULATION PLAN A."

One morning as they sat around the kitchen table whining into their cereal soggy flaked milk, I said;
"I have a great idea, guys. I know what we can do to make you really really happy, versus the way you have been feeling every morning; very very sad. I'm going to let you bring your blankets to the bus stop. So that when you get sad, instead of hiding your head inbetween your shoulders, you can suck your thumb and hold onto your blanket. It's always been so helpful to you in the past, and I have a feeling it will really make the both of you far more comfortable then you have been. Plus, like you said, you hate how loud everyone is on the bus, so you can also turn it into ear mufflers."

Yeap! BEE EYE EN GEE OH!
Oh my, they were so against it, that I bet if I had given them the option to either have Brussel sprouts and Lima beans for supper, or bring the blank to the bus stop, they'd have opted for the gag reflex of those nasty veggies. I knew that they would be soo against the blanket.

It became the perfect segway for my next comment:
"You don't want to bring your blankets? Why? I just thought since you're sooo sad, it would make you feel so much better!!" Of course their reply was, "no way Mom!! We'd look like babies if we brought them. We don't want them to see us with our blankets."

Cue the manipulation curtain please!
I said, "I'm confused, because the way that you are acting is very similar to how cute little babies act. They don't talk to anyone, all they do is whine when they don't like how full their diaper is, or how hungry their belly is. They stare off into space, not even able to move around. Almost like they're frozen in their little bodies, until they grow up to be big kids. Which is exactly the same way the two of you are acting, except you don't poop in your pants, nor do you wear diapers."

That worked.
Some.

So we activated part 2 of the plan.
Which was to not discuss school with them. Unless they brought it up. When they came home, we didn't start in with the questions like, "How was it today?" "Was it better then yesterday?" "Did you get sad, eat alone, not like the bus, not play with anyone, not want to do work?"

Instead, like many of you suggested, we left it alone. We were not going to attribute to their already sullen attitude about school. When they did discuss school, we didn't bring up anything that would point their brains into the direction of, "I HATE SCHOOL!" Rather, we just listened. We didn't give advice, nor did we share our own back in the day experiences with them.
Wait, we were little once, too?

That worked some.
Until....

Their constant verbal banter began to turn Ben into their little Parrot that squawks drama.
Not cool.
I refuse to let their miserable week and a half at school make a hater out of Ben.
No way.
Uh-huh.
Ben loves school.

Matter of fact, he was pissed he couldn't go on Saturday. He even expressed his frustration to his teacher that Friday and argued with her over why he couldn't show up on Saturday. He's that big a fan.

He's a big fan of his bus, his bus driver, his school, and his teacher(s). He takes it all very seriously. But with enjoyment as well. Like how a young boy would act when seeing an inflatable bounce house for the first time, be given the okay to jump in it-alone-with an audience-without having to share it with anyone-for an unlimited amount of time. That kind of seriousness.

Therefore being that they were training their parrot brother to be as snarky as they were about school, we called a "meeting." We brought Jack and Sully upstairs to our bedroom, sat them down (Town Council Meeting Style) and told them that they don't have to like school, nor do they have to feel happy about it. But they were no longer allowed to express any bad things about school, in front of Ben.

We tried to explain to them that they were like thieves stealing excitement away from a huge toy store. From that moment on, if they wanted to cry about school, sulk about school, bitch about school, squawk about school, they had to do it in their room, between the two of them.

We did make sure to tell them that although we would no longer allow them to shoplift school outside of their bedroom world, we would always be more then willing to listen to them if they were upset about what something. Anything. If someone was mean to them, or something made them cry, we would be more then happy to try to make them feel better. If they wanted us to comfort them, it was our job to do so whenever they needed it. We made sure to let them know that we would not punish them for communicating to us what is bothering them. But we made it even clearer, that if they continued to walk around the house bitching about school, the thing called XBOX would suddenly turn into buhbye box.

It worked.
Some.

They still weren't content with how things were going in school.
They still weren't happy.

However , we no longer had a parrot running around our home saying, "SQUAWK, school sucks, school sucks, I hate school, school sucks." Our little IEP Parrot was back to his normal verbal bouncy bammer self. Jack and Sully continued to complain about how much school was ruining their lives, privately, in their bedroom.

What happened next, changed everything.
What we did, what happened, will be shared in the next post.
Let's hope the next post will be the conclusion of this particular moment in parenthood.

Back To Regression

2010-08-28T18:23:00.000-07:00

You guys know we moved. We moved out of our town. We moved out of our county. We moved out of our school district.

Jackson, our oldest, the former "take him anywhere, he's very adaptable," is experiencing some serious regression. Change is not working for him right now.
He's in 3rd grade.
He's in a brand new school.
He has no friends.
He's eating alone.
*although I don't know quite how that's possible as the class all sit together at tables located in the gym, my guess is that he's not being spoken to.*
He's not playing with anyone at recess.
*although my niece, also in 3rd grade, and in a different class, is someone he will run around with-along with her grade school friends, except when they get too girlie, he stops playing with them, goes off and just sits on the sidewalk

It's only been one week, I get that things happen in time. Only, you have to remember, when it comes to my children, time hurts me more then just "regular time," if that makes any sense.

A parent knows and feels what a child cannot say. Especially when your personalities are similar.
So it's breaking my heart. When your heart is breaking, it's hard to see clearly. You may need an outside perspective. I don't know.

He's not only regressing socially at school, but in the 4days that he's been in school, he's already withdrawn himself from us.

Again, yes, only 4 days, and yes I do know time will make it better. I truly truly do.
I'm okay with this. So, until "time happens," for Jackson when it comes to making friends, his own age, mind you, I need some suggestions and opinions, and tips. For the middle part.

This part.
The part that's at the very beginning of the change.
Sort of like the first trimester of a pregnancy.
You're all shot and exhausted and if you're not pucking into the middle of your center console, pulled over onto the side of the highway, on your way to work, you're ready to. You can't see clearly, because this is all new. Tips always help that new mom in the first trimester.

So, it's kinda like that, 2 heartbeats beating. Change happening. Development is occurring.
Lives affected.
Dads. the new little alien. Moms.

Jackson is withdrawing.
Today, we were at my sisters for my niece's' family birthday party. He usually plays constantly with my niece and nephew. (she, like I said, is also in 3rd grade, and my nephew, is in 4th. Their youngest, another little man was born 4months before Ben was born.) Except he didn't today.
Nope.

We asked him to join us outside when Grandpa was showing off a new toy he and Grandma fell in love with, and he wanted nothing to do with the noise and the racket and the ride. Nada.
Not interested in the helmet.
Nothing.

He was far more content being alone.
Which is fine.

I love to be alone.
However, there are times being alone is enjoyable, and then times when being alone sucks.
Whether it's because you're forced to be alone in the bed due to an illness, or perhaps a grounding, or you are cranky and in a snarky mood, that's when it sucks.

It's obvious what the difference is. The difference is wanting to be alone, for a good cause, and being forced to be in your room, alone. The issue is the lack of control over the latter.
Kids have that in them, although they are extremely impulsive, most kids crave control, even if they don't know what it is, how to spell it, what the name of the feeling is, and why it's happening.

Why do you think some young ones hold their poopie in. It's one of the first things they can control, without their parent.

So, until time happens for Jackson, what can we do, to help him?

You can be anonymous. That's perfect fine.

Here's what we've done in the weeks long of only 4 days of a new school:
1) given him one goal to accomplish each day when it comes to socializing. One step towards the new station. He may be stuck right now, but we can still try to help him take baby steps, or he'll starve if he isn't able to manage the change to the new educational bin. The goals are simple, like, talk to the oldest boy at the bus stop. Give another classmate a compliment. Talk about whatever type of character or sports team a boy has on his shirt.

2) We asked him to remember what the newboy did to get used to Jack's classroom in the middle of last year. Jack's former school. This was an unsuccessful attempt because Jackson said, "when the new boy came to our classroom from a new school from a new state, I walked up to him at recess and asked him to play with us so he wouldn't be alone."
Crap. Can there be another one like mine? I'm sure there is.

3) We've mentioned his Aunt and Uncles dealt with that. How they would cry at night. They hated it. We told them how it took time, but his Uncles actually ended up meeting friends faster then his Aunt. His Aunt was the youngest. (remember, we're all a year and a half apart in age.)
Jackson has even spoken to them, or rather listened, well, not really listened. At least to me he didn't appear to be listening. More preoccupied with a toy that he had in his hand. But I'm hoping the reminder that he's not the only one ever to do this before, will eventually sink in.

The things I am considering doing?
Actually, right now? Very few.
1) Try to get a newcomers club started at the school. A sort of mentorship program.
Classes 1st thru 5th. New students matched with former new students. It's something I could discuss with the school social worker, or perhaps even the president of our PTA. After all, our kids are only getting P.E. 2 times a week. Which, personally to me, sucks. P.E. is the perfect opportunity to be social in a controlled environment that teaches teamwork and competition. It gives the chance for the students to let out some steam, regardless of why. Plus it gives their classroom teacher a break.

2) Get him signed up for our subdivision/school Boy Scouts, we're working on that right now.

3) Seeing a family therapist to show him we care about how he feels, and we want to get better tips on how to make the time of this change, less of an emotional roller coaster. We can't control the change itself, but we can control how to manage the time we have with this change. He'll listen to someone new. We'll learn from someone not emotionally connected to any of us.

4) Getting him into Karate, at the park district.

5) Having him sign up with one of us for volunteer work. Maybe at one of the many farms nearby our home that have horses. Or help out at homeless shelters. Visit our church that is located in the town we moved from, and very difficult for us to get up in the morning on Sunday, and drive 40minutes. Plus, then Jack and the boys see our old home, friends. Right now, it's painful.

Right now we're in the first trimester of back to school regression. Before we know it, we'll reach the 2ND trimester.

But until then, what can we do, to help ease the exhaustion, concern, nausea and fear?

So there are things in the brain that are spinning.
Except these things cost money.

"Mom-E, True or False, Do Men Marry Men?..."

2010-08-26T18:22:00.000-07:00

"Mom-E, true or false, Do Men Marry Men?.........."

That was the first question, word, sound that came out of Sullivan's mouth after getting off the school bus today. It's an easy assumption that he must have had some chatter with his fellow kindergartners* onboard the bus.

We sit down at the kitchen table, I set down his lunch and water for him, and without thinking about it too hard, I answer:

"Yes, Sully, they do, if they're allowed to, it depends where they live."
Sully: "WHY?"

"Because, it's what they decide to do. It's their heart, soul and path, and they are able to make their own decision on who they marry."
Sully: "Will you marry a girl, after you're done marrying dad, if he gets too old?"

"No, I'm going to be married to Dad until I die. It's my decision to stay married to him, and not stop marrying him, for someone else."
Sully: "Do you know any men that married men?"

"Yes, I do as a matter of fact."
Sully: "You do? Who are they?"

"They are some of my closest friends, and for some of your friends, maybe their Uncles, or Grandpas or Dad's." "I know girls that are married to girls, boys married to boys, and I am friends with them. There are rules that the world sets for us. Those rules come from all different directions. If you're big into science, there are rules for how that works, if you're big into religion, there are rules that you abide by, or try to for that matter." "In some of the things that make up this magical world, there are people that will say it's wrong. It doesn't matter why they believe it's wrong, you have to understand that people aren't all going to have the same ideas on it. Sort of like how even though there are video games rated PG13, a rule could be that unless you're 13, you can't watch it, but we bend the rules, if we think you're old enough to watch that movie."

(As you can imagine, by now, I've gone way to far."
"Why do you ask anyways, Sully?"
Sully: "oh because it's false, men don't marry men. But they like to watch I-Carly like you do, and they want to watch the new 'Fred' show, because Lucas has a funny way of talking."

Yet another "Sullism" strikes again.
*Yes, Sully is repeating Kindergarten. It works because we moved so far south, we're in a completely different county, and school district.

(As a side note, I did not post this, to start a biblical vs science vs opinion vs facts vs rules war. You believe what you want. You kiss who you want. I'll do the same. Some aren't able to respect that people are different. Which is fine. Not everyone can be like that. However, in this particular post, this was in no way any reference to what people should or shouldn't believe in. It was merely a conversation between a 6year old and his Mom. If you have kids, you'll totally get it. But the difference is, you know when to shut up, and I still haven't figured that out. I'm better off blogging.)

DEDEEN

2010-08-20T18:18:00.000-07:00

It's not what you think.

It's more a "what would you do if you aren't known?"

Think about it for a moment, think about the one thing that you can bring to your family, parents, in laws, siblings, dogs, cats, birds, ducks.

Now if you aren't able to bring one thing to this table of yours, how would that make you feel?

I'm not saying you can only be 100% sure of one thing, but the one thing that differs from the other good gifts, and something that you could bring to this table of communication.

Would I call my carpenter brother to do my overhead sewer install, when my other brother is an amazing Plumber? For whatever reason you might think, you should also think about how the plumber feels that you aren't needing him.

If he's anything like my twisted mind, he'd be hurt.
But, this is a broads' brain you're reading and now it's a female plumber, female carpenter--you know what? I can't see that example working out here.

So, now, back to me.
I will say I am thankful to have multiple gifts (really? Don't go there people, you all know the suitcase story with my "Best Bettys.").

A lot of these gifts are gifts that my family has. All our gifts compliment one another, as long as we're open to that. Sure I might rock at the bakery, but so could (she does rock) my mom.
But we all have a uniqueness. If you have a good relationship with this person, you recognize this, and you allow them to be part of your table, their gifts and yours. You know this person.
Even though you both love clothes, one of you may be in high end fashion design. Do I call my radio broadcasting brother about needing help with teaching kids. When my other brother is a teacher?

I have this, um, "thing." If I sit and dwell on why I am this way, and for what, if any reasons, it will force me into overtime and like my addiction to Snow Caps, it will only get worse.

I love to be needed. Now, there is a difference, I think, between needy and needed. Needed you seek the person out that needs your support. You give. You have something different from some.

I love to help out. I wish I was rich, because it would be awesome to be one of those types. I would probably, as Brian laughs about, blow a good amount of money, on things for others.

Some might say I'm too nice. I do laugh at that, because I can see how annoying that would be. I do agree, as well, that I can be too nice. But I've learned how to be a snarky bitch, so watch your fine heel self. It is frustrating for people.

For some they might think it's not real. For others, the no backbone factor, you could come up with a bunch of these.

I think being needed towards other females within your network of family and friends, and they needing you, makes the relationship speak for itself.

You can never be the Vice President of a Bank, like your relative, but you can help when it comes to baby tips.

From depression
anxiety
anger
post partum depression
euphoria
tiresome
cranky
impatient,
happy,
time flying too fast
fevers and scratches take forever to heal
especially as they are etched within your hearts
their personalities
their differences,
the things you see in one of your kids
that remind you of yourself,
and thus you ultimately end up parenting that child
harsher, because you don't want them to have those
traits that you yourself have,
and cannot stand.
You know those kinds, the quirky habits.

Or maybe a son is way to sensitive and concerned with what others think
and wants to help out all the time.

So you can see I love to be part of a circle of Moms. Especially within my family. We don't hide the hard parts. We don't have to strip all the situations down to the maternity underwear thong gong, but, you don't hide the drama.

You help.
You admit when you need help.
You trust them.
They you.

That's how a relationship should work.
But if they can't see how you are, and they don't stop to pay attention,
they won't be willing to let you in on the story.
They try to erase.
Maybe not even intentionally. Maybe it's out of jealousy.
Siblings have jealousy. That's one of the main reasons that starts the long estranged path.

It's just nice to be needed. Especially when you know you can.
It's helpless, but as I learned with my brother's accident, things happen for a reason. You see how everyone handles the emotion. You recognize the differences, but you still are there for one another. I'm blessed like that. I'm also blessed that my siblings know what makes us all work.

I love being there, in the middle of things, helping, but wanting to do it, silently too. Like writing here. It's far easier for me to do this, then it is for me to say, "Please go to the store and get the pickles for Wednesday's pot luck mucker." (That's a neurological issue, another post, some other time.)

For me, I love to help. Kick it into highgear. When I am unable to, it turns me around and gets me all backwards. But in time, I would like to think that I'll remember this circumstance and realize, that it can be annoying to be around someone "too nice."

Especially if I am unaware of who they really are, because I just never gave them a chance to learn and build a relationship.

**Sorry if this is a ramble. I have a raging headache, was forced to take a new prescription that I really am not into, but I am sooo happy I'm off the hormones. Having the clotting issue, reminded me that I'd rather have to buy a new portapotty and take that everywhere, then I would to be in the hospital with a blood clot. No more hormones.

This ought to be interesting.

YELLING DOESN'T WORK!!!!!!!

2010-08-13T17:52:00.000-07:00

"I said, stop yelling at each other." (I'm yelling)
"I said, quit fighting!" (I'm yelling)

I said, "Sullivan, do NOT RUN AWAY FROM ME! COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW."
I said, "No running in the house."
I said, "It's time for bed."
I said, "Clean up your blocks."
I said, "I'm talking to you."
I said, "If your ears aren't working now, mine won't work tomorrow!"
I said, "MCDONALD'S ICE-CREAM!!"

They all came running.

*a slight difference from one on Facebook, for those of you that are lucky to be part of my friend book.*

THE BABYSITTING STRIPPER

2010-08-12T18:38:00.000-07:00

I remember the first time, as a young girl, when I made an "oops," while being "employed" by someone to care for their children.

They lived two houses down from us.
Two beautiful sweet little girls.
The youngest was still well under the age of 1, and the older one, probably 3, or 4.

They had a cat that always freaked me out. Not sure why. The only thing I can think of is it might have been my first brush ever, with any cat, that close.
My family didn't have cats.

My Grandma fed strays and cared for them outside, but that was different. You were told not to go near them.
You didn't.
You listened.

So, yes, this cat made me nervous.

The mistake I made, which almost "cost" me my babysitting job with this family, is I watched JAWS one night.

The oldest girl, wasn't going to bed, and she ended up sitting with me.

AND..of course...dumb young me, she watched JAWS.

Yep, you guessed it, not only did she tell her Mom, but she did in the middle of the night, for the next couple weeks due to nightmares about the shark that eats her in her house.

I still, to this day feel guilty about that.

Strange thing is, thinking back, and remember I was young, probably not even in 6th grade, or close to it, the mom threw a surprise party for her husband, in their home. The kids were sent to my parents house, and I was paid to watch the kids in our house.

Because she hired a stripper for her husband.
Watched the woman dance and groove all over her husband.
In front of their close friends, and neighbors.
A nice large group of friends, that came to, most likely, his 30th.

Man, that used to be old to me.
30 = old

I heard my mom talking about it to someone on the phone.
After the party.
You know, about the stripper thing?
It wasn't something my mom felt was an appropriate thing to do.

Then I remember coming across the album later on.
Naturally, this is all Pre-Jaws night.
She put the pictures in an album.
The birthday party pictures.
The stripper pictures.
...Of this woman doing her groove thang with her husband!...

It was my first brush with sex. Sneak peeks of the TV show, 3's Company didn't count. I couldn't understand why my parents wouldn't let us watch that! But aside from learning in health class, I saw "sex" captured with a married woman laughing while her husband is getting a lap dance. I'm sure that's all it was. But I can guarantee you at the time I was probably shocked, and convinced that it was going to be sex.
Or it was sex.
Who knows.

I was young and impressionable, that's all.
She also had pictures of her having her babies.
The album just on top of the stripper one.

So, the stripper strips.

Some time later I get in trouble for the Jaws issue.

Not sure how many years passed, but eventually this wife that scorned me for the movie Jaws, leaves her husband for his best friend whom she was having an affair with, for quite some time.

Makes the fact that she hired a stripper to get jiggly with her husband, seem, fairly normal.
I'm sure that was far worse for those girls years later, then Jaws was. Or most likely, equally as frightening, only this time, it's real.
It's happening in their home.

But still, I never got over the Jaws thing. I felt horrible and embarrassed, and ashamed, and so worried about how this was going to impact my parents, what they'd think of me. Would the neighbors still want to be friends with my parents even though their daughter became scared of home eating sharks because of me? Would my parents be embarrassed of me?

I definitely, if given the option, would not return to childhood. Or the growth of it all.
I'm not a big fan of death. I realize we arrive here and we return the favor by leaving here, but I would happily stay right where I am. Here. If someone were to say, "I'll grant you one more chance around the block, are you interested?"

Nope.
I'm Happy in the present for all it's 60seconds.
Then we arrive to the next group of 60 seconds.

It really isn't a bad thing, unless you're afraid of sharks.

BACK TO SCHOOL BOO

2010-08-07T07:12:00.001-07:00

I about fell out of my email inbox when I saw one of the messages in my inbox.
It was from Pottery Barn:

ACT NOW AND GET THEM WHILE YOU CAN.
TOP HALLOWEEN COSTUMES OF 2010 ARE NOW AVAILABLE AND ON SALE!

um, I haven't finished brown paper wrapping my sons' textbooks, and already it's Halloween?
I haven't finished choreographing my back to school happy dance yet.

Let me get these boys off to school, do the happy back to school dance with the rest of the moms, watch as the bus pulls them safely away from the curb towards the destination of ABC'S and 123's, before I start browsing the popular Boos.

Geesh.

I thought seeing Christmas trees with Pumpkins were bad.
This is just silliness.

Booohooo.

ALS WALK BE HIS FANS

2010-08-04T08:18:00.000-07:00

So, if you know someone with ALS.
Or have seen what it does to someone.
I'm sure you'll understand the importance of raising awareness for this fatal disease.
I've written about it many times.
Our young friend, that will be 30 on September the 18th, will walk 3 miles.
As his body slowly stops working.

On September the 18th the ALS walk will be held in Portage Michigan.
The same town that he lives in.

We would love it if you could make the journey and walk behind Brian, as his 'in the stands', fans.
For him.
For his wife.
For their little spunky girl.

But, we understand, how hard that is.
School is starting up.
Business, work, and your own health takes up so much time.
I understand.
But, if you'd like to donate to the ALS foundation, see the link just below:
ALS WALK BRIAN'S BULLPEN PORTAGE MI

Yes, the link just above here.
Have I confused you yet?
No?
Hold on, I will eventually.

Any donation, would most definitely help this young family.
Their young daughter.
Their daily expenses.
Their wife.
Him.

If you'd rather send a donation to the family:
The Schnurstein Family ALS Fund
P.O. Box 1328
Portage, MI 49024

So, the ALS walk in Michigan this September.
Team name: BRIAN'S BULLPEN
(Brian Schnurstein)

I also must mention something amazing.
Brian, along with his entire family, continues to pay it forward. It's almost as if the more they are given, the more they enrich others. In food and words. In inspiration and strength. You name it.

He's always up to bat, prepared for strikes, but plans on hitting many home runs for as long as he is allowed to, by The Big Man Upstairs.
He doesn't quit the team.
Throw in the towel.
Sure he may yell at the Ump, wouldn't you?
There are many of us calling FOUL PLAY with this call.
He still hushes the stands, and walks to the plate, ready for whatever is about to come towards him, no matter how fast or tricky.

He doesn't give up.
He offers his hand.
His voice.
He donates to help other causes.

Amazing to me that this young man, instead of playing the victim, continues to give.

A true leader. A true Strength. A true graceful galloping horse.

In the meantime, take a look at the newspaper article that appeared prior to the golf outing, about him and his family, and his strength.
This appeared a few weeks ago in the paper:
DAILY HERALD CHICAGO IL

If you'd like to learn more, join his team as we walk behind him as fans, or just donate to their cause, please go to this link:

ALS WALK PORTAGE MI.
Team Name: Brian's BullPen

Never once, has this family asked for help.
This is a community helping them.
The community did this for them.
They didn't ask for a thing.
Correction, they asked for just prayers.

They give, they don't ask.
How many people do you know that are like that?

A woman that will be raising her young daughter, someday a widow, and she continues to laugh, give and love the world.

If you do help them out, as they could use it, I am certain that they will appreciate your amazing generosity.
It takes so little to gain so much.

DUMP TRUCK LUCK

2010-07-30T06:19:00.000-07:00

Things happen for reasons we just can't explain. Whether faith, instinct, luck, belief, or just because, things do happen.

Take yesterday for example;

The boys and I are on our way to see my Mom to pick up hamburger buns.

As we were approaching an intersection that was just about to turn red, I had a thought that popped into my head, remembering my car accident when a car turning left and heading eastbound, turned directly into my driverside as I was heading North, totaling my car and causing damage to my tissues, muscles and nerves along my leftside. For whatever reason, that image and thought popped in my head.

Perhaps because the intersection I was approaching is known for it's fatalities. Or perhaps because of the recent fundraiser we had for our friend, and everyone that was there, for many of them, they were able to catch up with my brother, Jim, and were amazed at his progress. Or perhaps because when our friend had the courage to speak, he explained how lucky he is to be able to say goodbye to his loved ones. Because some die tragically in car accidents.

I can't explain the reasons it popped into my head, but what I did, was I changed lanes. Instead of sitting behind the white dodge minivan, I sat alongside him.

I sat at our red light, to the right of the white minivan that was also going to be heading northbound. He was alongside me to my left, in the other lane. After the cars in the southbound intersection had their chance to head east by turning left at their left turn light, their light turned red.

Ours turned green to proceed thru the intersection.

In that same left turn lane, across the intersection a dump truck, along with 2 other cars behind it proceeded to continue to turn left, directly in front of me and the white minivan to my left.

I had a feeling, and for whatever reason, I hesitated longer then I usually do when a light turns green in our favor. I always pause and look because of my accident that I had, but this time, I paused longer, and then proceeded.

Yesterday my sons and I were a witness to a hit and run.
We weren't part of the accident.

The dump truck turned in front of us, the car behind it hit the white minivan and the car behind the Volvo that hit the white caravan, hit the Volvo.

The dump truck drove off, along with the Volvo, although there was obvious damage to the Volvo.

I'm grateful because yesterday I was reminded how awful it could have turned out to be. Had I proceeded at my normal speed, we would have been T-boned by the dump trunk, after the dump truck hit the white minivan and pushed it into the drivers side of our minivan.

The White Minivan, swerved when hit, away from us, so instead of hitting us after being hit, he was clipped again by the car behind the Volvo. Sparing us from damage.

You know I have fears of car accidents. That ever since becoming a parent I went from fun to fearful regarding motor vehicles. When I had my car accident in May of 2005, it made the fear better and worse. When it happened to my brother last May of 2009, game over.

Yet I'm grateful for that, because he was spared. He's still here. We're still here. Our minivan isn't out looking for directions on how to get to the junk yard.

Just a reminder to always go thru an intersection more cautiously, especially the larger ones, because for whatever reason, these morons continued to turn left on a red light.

Makes sense why that intersection is ranked high in fatalities.

What will never make sense is what was the hidden power that actually put the thought in my head that helped me move to the far right lane, instead of remaining behind the white minivan.
Had I stayed in that lane, I would have also been hit, like the car behind him did.

So a 4 car plus a dump truck was what we witnessed. Instead of it being a 5 car plus dump truck.

I hope they find the bastard that hit and ran..
In the meantime, remember, as hard as it might be to see it, it's far better then being it.

Drive Safe Please!
Don't add to my fears by being a reckless driver.
Be cautious and defensive.

THE BULLPEN LIST

2010-07-28T15:24:00.000-07:00

Our dear friend, a young man that I've known since he (and my brothers) were around the age of 10years old-
Or is it 9?
8?

Since they were little boys.
The one I wrote about a few posts back,
the one that is dying.
The one that is only 29years old.
A wife and a beautiful vibrant little girl that is well under the age of 2.

I heard her say "dah dah" last night, to her daddy, our friend, our fan, the one that has ALS, and has less then 3years left.
More then likely 2years.

Yet he continues to teach me.
He continues to give to us.

We had a golf outing as a benefit to raise money for this young man.
A silent auction.
Raffles.
Food.
A banquet hall at the golf club, full of people.
More then 500 people, actually.

A multiple reunion with classmates from 1992, 1991, 1993, 1994, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2001.
Former teachers.
The mayor.
Old friends.
It wasn't just the people from our town, our highschool, his elementary or middle school that came to support him.
It was his former coaches.
It was people from other highschools' that we would have considered, "rival schools."
All these people to come out and give to this young man.

Yet he gave more.
He gave so much last night by standing in front of everyone, so many that he hasn't seen in over 10years, and spoke.
Spoke about as raw as you can imagine.

You know how there's always questions in our head that we want details about?
But we know it's not proper to ask the person?

This courageous man, stood in front of all of us, and answered all our thoughts.
In my short lifetime, and I have seen some sad sad things, I have never seen so many men crying as hard as they were, at the same time, in the same place, for the same person.

He showed everyone last night just what type of a person he is.
In case we forgot how much of a bull he has always been.
How strong and humorous.
Yet compassionate and truthful.
Honest.

I said raw.
I meant raw.

He said, "I am going to die young."
He said, "I take 20 pills a day."
He said how much his he is already losing when it comes to his body.
If you were present, you would be able to understand.
He also told all of us what new symptoms he's been experiencing lately.
Part of the disease.
Things that aren't as obvious to us yet.

He explained his emotions about the diagnosis, finding out, his wife, what it was like telling his 3 brothers. Seeing a woman that is now a widow of ALS, and she said to both him and his lovely young wife, "My husband didn't have ALS, we all had ALS."

He explained that even when he can no longer talk, he can still show his wife love and he can still, and always will, laugh.
Even when this cruel disease takes away his voice. His jaw.
His muscles. His ability to eat.
His ability to hold his daughter.

He spoke about how blessed he is. How lucky he is to have ALS.
WHAT?
Did you just reread that last line?

I told you, he's inspirational.
He put it this way, he gets to say goodbye. He gets to hopefully fullfill some of the things on his list, before he goes.
Not everyone has that luck.

Our dear dear friend is facing the biggest battle of his life, one that he knows will be the death of him, the one that will cause such pain within his family, friends, and our amazing community.

Yet he's blessed.

Truly a young man you would be grateful to learn from.
He still laughs as much as his voice allows him to.
He still loves.
He still tells jokes.
He is not ALS. His body is. He will always be the same person until the day he is taken away.

I am going to ask you for help.
Help in accomplishing his list.
He was a very successful baseball and football player, so instead of calling it his bucket list, I'd much prefer to call it "Brian's BullPen List."

He wants to sit in the Notre Dame Locker Room
He wants to go to a Final Four Game, with his brothers and dad.
He wants to attend the PGA.

There is more, more that we wish we could accomplish.
Some like, he wants to see his daughter grow up.
He knows that's not a realistic list, but he doesn't give up his fight.

He is even willing to have his jaw broken and wired, if that will help lengthen the time he has with his voice.
He works out, to help his muscles.

He teaches, he inspires and it's only right that we try to help him and his family accomplish his bullpen list.
Please can you help?

TO THE DOGS

2010-07-20T20:11:00.000-07:00

I've been all over the place.
No, literally, I have.
Well, I feel that way, anyways.

On July 2nd, my sons left with my father in law for a week down in West Palm Beach FL. Ben, BG, Marina!! and I would join them on July 9th. With our mommovile as means for transportation.

We left our southwest suburb with Marina in our vehicle, and a plastic bag filled with "goodies" from her Vet. Benedryl, tranquilizer, ear cleaner to prevent yeast infections, an antibiotic, just in case she gets ill. She was amazing! We did a trial run with her "tranquilizer," while still at home, to see how she would react to the sedation while still in her element.

I also had purchased a new bone, a new fraternal twin stuffed hedgehog, like the fluff stuff free one we bought for her the same day we adopted her. It's her favorite toy. The one that's made it through all the battles of toys, and balls, bones,...and so on.

So I bought this homeopathic, or so I refer to it, collar that gives off a scent with lavender, and chamomile, as well as other natural relaxation scents for dogs. The collar itself looks like a flea collar. Not fashionable at all. But, the way I think, dogs are all about scent. It's their eyes. It's their memory, it's their intuition to fight or flight, or roll over and be snuggled. So I thought that by buying her this collar and putting it on her ahead of time, while still at home, the scent would be in her element. So that she, when on the road, would still not only have something around her neck that relaxes her with the scents, but the fact that she grew used to this scent in her own home, so in a sense, she carried home with her as well, within the other scents of the collar.

I'm not sure if it was the collar, or the oh my pampered treatment she had at camp canine country club and spa, located in Boca Raton, Fl. A cageless environment, except at bedtime, where dogs are grouped by size, and have different rooms to play in, as well as a fenced play area out back. They offer transportation via yellow poochie bus, you can pay an extra amount of money to call her on their Fido Fone, and skype with one another, but sign her up in fun photo shoots. As a matter of fact they actually have a cruise available for the dogs, for the purposes of a bark mitzvah. How cool is that?

You walk into this place and think, wow, JACKPOT! Clothing everywhere, a doggie bed for sale for $499.00. All the perks that come with a Saturday to Sunday stay. A room with plastic slides and so forth, as well as another room to watch a Fido film. Lassie is the preferred movie for them.
A room full of beds, toddler beds that are in the space of Thomas the tank engine, a race car bed, a castle, you name it, all for dogs to chill on, together, in a cageless environment.

No, I am not being paid to talk about this place. As a matter of fact they don't even know I'm writing about this, or the fact that I have a blog, I just cannot get over this place. A place I found while researching dog "kennels," while we spent a weekend at a hotel in Florida.

The staff were amazing. Professional, down to earth, neighborhood pals that don't walk with an air of snottiness. More like the personality of your kindergarten teacher. Happy, without overkill, and loves her little friends. No Boca Bitch attitude with these employees.

Picture a posh place, with employees that don't walk around like they are the next boob job of America.

Plus, the perks that you can purchase in addition to the stay, are helpful even when it comes to pick up times.

Now I know the best place for a dog is her home. But we couldn't afford to leave her at home and hire someone. Nor could we afford to put her, nor did I want to, in her vet kennel-caged, for more then 10days.-

After an okay from my mother in law with a promise I would get relaxers for her from the vet, and much research about travel, we left for Florida on July 7th, at 7pm on Wednesday night. Just Ben, BG, Marina and I.

She was remarkable in the hotels we stayed at all together along the roadtrip. She was a chill dog in the car, and we had her bed in the car.

I'm not sure if was the collar, the constant companionship with her owners in a closed space, the drugs from the vet, but she was such an amazing dog. We only used the medication 3 times. Not bad when you think about having to leave a dog, alone in your hotel room, while you go to a wedding.

We drove from IL to FL and left FL for VA on July the 15th. We needed to be in a northern town way north beyond the tricities Tennessee airport, for my best friend's rehearsal dinner and wedding.
So from FL we drove thru Georgia, South Carolina, Tennessee, North Carolina, and finally VA.
We left VA for the long journey ride home back here. The way home we ended up with directions that took us thru the back roads of VA, within the mountains.

Throughout the entire journey, Marina was remarkable, and if you should ever have to travel along with your pooch in a vehicle, I would suggest having the items listed in the paragraphs above, along with you, especially if you're headed to Boca. Because for as posh of a place her Camp Canine Country Club and Spa was, and how I loved the fact that it was cageless, assuming your poochie behaves herself, was the cost.

For a drop off at 10am on Saturday, and a pick up at 12pm Sunday, it only cost $45!!! I'd be charged more then that, for her to stay in a vet kennel. Plus, most of them aren't open on Sundays so you cannot pick her up until Monday, and you are charged for that. This place, remarkable. Clean. Compassionate. Happy.

I just can't get over how pampered she was. Plus she was so good at my mother in laws home as well. Matter of fact, my mother in law let her hang out on their sheet covered chocolate colored amazing sectional, snuggled up against one another.

Marina, I hope had a good time. One thing to keep in mind though, is typically after any over night stay away from you and a home, they do come home tired. They will sleep. They may get the runs. They may throw up. Those things are matters you watch, to ensure hydration, and good health.

Over all it was a wonderful trip. 97% of the trip was a great time. You know you had a good time with your in laws when the both of you cry when saying goodbye to one another. It's not always like that, I'm sure. But nothing beats a visit then bonding. It was lovely.

Like I said, even Marina scored big time!!

But I am glad to be home, and off all the roads.
I've banned myself from driving in the van for the next couple of days.

So, that's where I've been.
All over the states, happy that this trip included our Marina, and was an amazing trip.
A toast, A raised bone, to all the other happy pet owners, and poochies themselves, that have experienced spoiling fun trips, on a middle class type salary. So worth it.

Now if only they had a location up near me for Camp Canine.
Part of the reason I think dogs do well there, is because it's not a vet kennel. It doesn't have "those" types of smells. You know, how would you feel if you slept in a hotel that smelled exactly like a hospital? Versus one that actually smelled like a hotel.

Yes, hotels have that delicious vacation smell. Especially the ones near a beach. A Holiday Inn, A Hilton, A you name it, for the most part, all hotels smell the same, all inns smell the same, etc...

Not being a Dog, but digging scents myself, it's clear to me that the reason the dogs enjoy places like this, is because the smells don't resemble a vets office. Sick Smells. Sad saying goodbye smells. The smell of medications and fears.

Trust me on this. I may not be too savvy with many things, but I know my amazing dog, and I do think that I patted myself on the back, for trying my best to make her travels, with us, on a budget, as posh as possible, without a broken doggie bark-er bank.

TO THE DOGS EVERYWHERE!!

Sully Six Pick Up Stix

2010-07-03T17:02:00.000-07:00

My dear Sullivan, and for those of you that know us, you'll know how amazing his "Sullisms" are, turned 6 on Thursday.

July 1st. Sigh.

It's going too fast.

But not going fast enough.

Make any sense to you?

We didn't do anything big only because Jack and him left yesterday for Florida to spend a week with Grandma and Grandpa before we (Ben, Bri and I) join them.

From West Palm Beach we'll be heading up to North Caroline/Virginia for my best friend's wedding. It's a small affair. It will be a nice way to break up the trip home as, like I said, we're driving from here to Florida and from Florida there. I've never driven up that part of the way and am excited to see something new.

The wedding itself will be awesome as it's tucked away in Virginia-I'm pretty sure one of the towns around that area is Bristol. It will be a new adventure and with His hands I'm hoping we'll all make it home safe and sound.

So Sullivan is 6 now. When he and I went to pick out a cake for his birthday, the baker asked him what he wanted written on it. He said: "It's Sully's Birthday."

Cute, right? I know, he's awesome!

Except I had to ask him if he wanted the baker to include his age on the cake and have it written; "It's Sully's 6th Birthday. I'm pretty sure you all know where this is going.

Sully promptly replied: "Mom, that's what the candles are for."

Yet another classic Sullism that will very shortly be up on Facebook.

It was a nice day, far better then last years 5year old birthday for the poor guy. Having to dress up in blue protection gear and open up presents in mom-E's hospital room is definitely not something any child should have to do. Sadly, there are many, and for reasons far more important and tragic then just issues with colitis. But enough of the negatives.

He had a great day. He didn't get all that he asked for and he was OKAY!!! about it. Which made me very proud of how solid of a young lil man he's growing up to be. He even wanted to save all of his birthday money from different relatives. A great day for all.

I hope all of you that are celebrating the fourth of July have a wonderful, and safe weekend!

Welcome To Crustybeef~
When was the last time I put that up?

DEAR MR. C,

2010-06-24T08:32:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Com-Ed,
I realize that with the storms we've had of late, you've been overworked, overwhelmed and without a lot of power to get you going. Your work to restore happy sweat free people around the Midwest area is not unnoticed, however, I am rather electrified by your poor organizational skills.

Explain to me Mr. C, how we can receive a bill sold from you, to a collection agency, HARRIS AND HARRIS, in the amount of $130 give or take for an old statement.

Explain to me Mr. C, how I can see a letter addressed to my husband, Brian, stating that there is an outstanding debt and he has the legal 30days to despite the claim, when the alleged debt is for the address he lived it in, oh, 1995?

((*insert comment from Bigdog himself: "you see? this is my mazel. I can't win the lotto, not even 20bucks, but I'll get a bill 12something years later. Just my usual mazel."))

Explain to me Mr. C, how there was never an attempt to collect on this debt, and you have had ample opportunity being that upon Brian's return from residing in Florida in May of 2005, he established utility service, and provided you with a social security #, that there was never any mention of this debt, until now.

It is a small amount, I do agree. But it's the principal. Now, if this was on his credit, it would be required by law, to be removed from his bureau within 7years. That's not the case here-yet.

How can you Mr. C, honestly think it's fair to have the customer service rep tell Brian that the reason for the length of time between unpaid and collection, is because somehow, "your account was lost and misplaced." For over 10 freakin years?

Signed,
Someone concerned that you're spending money in the wrong areas within your company.
Your electricity can't spill within the seas of our world, but it can cause a dent by your poor attempts to try and collect on a bill well over 10 years old. Keep in mind you have breached many items pertaining to this. One such being the fact that you failed to advise Brian of the fact that there was an unpaid balance with you. You can't just send an old bill to a collection agency without first making attempts to obtain the balance from the customer. Or at least give the customer a chance to dispute the bill.
I smell a downed wire, this is crap.

FOR YOU, my READERS:
Does anyone know how we can go about getting this taken care of? I am reporting this minor hiccup to our Illinois ATTNY General. Yes, I am stubborn, I refuse to pay this mainly for the fact that it's a joke they even tried to send this to us. Com-Ed didn't follow the regular process of bill collection, by first sending out the bill requests themselves. I refuse to spend $ on something such as this. I can't tell you guys how bad I wish I was able to call the collection agency and handle this myself. Alas, in 1995 Brian wasn't even in my world, nor I in his.

Come on , Com-Ed. Or should I say, CON-ED?

THE HEALTH BANDIT STRIKES AGAIN

2010-06-16T15:21:00.001-07:00

The day I'm supposed to be at work, and helping with the event we're having for the friend that has ALS, I'm in Edward's Hospital ER, being checked out for a blood clot.

Frustrating, but grateful it all came back clear. The only wah wah is that I need to have my heart looked at. The rate shouldn't be that high-consistantly high- which was one of the reasons they thought it was a P.E. That and the pain in my leftside near the ribs and lungs. As well as the blood work coming back showing the D-Dimer was .55. The norm and under is .45. Which means that there is inflammation somewhere within the body.

But, instead of being on bloodthinners, they're treating it as pleurisy. Nothing more, nothing less.
Not much else to say, so I'm being all "boohoo me, Peeing in a cup, what glee, what glee!!"

How are you?

STOP THE ABUSE!!! SUMMER BREAK PROJECT

2010-06-08T05:29:00.000-07:00

(THE YAK STRIP)

I've had technology thoughts on my brain for quite awhile now. Not about how savvy everything is, because that I am fully aware of. But more so, what it's doing to my children.

Maybe yours, too?

Recently Brian and I watched an episode of "CRIMINAL MINDS," where the unsub was someone prying on women from a social networking site. Naturally there is more to it, and not at all like real life. (Well, it could be, but if you like that show and haven't caught up on your DVR lists, I don't want to ruin it for you.) What really got me thinking about this particular episode, was when one of the agents said to the interviewee, "I don't have email."

Made me think.

The other day as I was making the drive home from old town to new town, my brain told me something that made me then think, "I need to tell Brian before I forget to get that.."

As I picked up my cell phone, I stopped.

Really?
I'm going to call Brian right then and there in the car just because I thought of something to tell him? So I have to do it right then and there?

That's the issue.

Everything is ON DEMAND.

I don't do anything to help my short term memory house, if everytime I think of something to tell someone, I pick up the cell and tell them. I truly believe that this on demand stuff is impacting our short term memory.

The difference is, for so many of us, we didn't have all this technology growing up. Do I think it's amazing and fantastic and useful? Of course. Do I think it's made many people lazy lards? Of course.

With everything at a touch of a button, or a click of a wireless mouse, you really don't have to wait to tell anyone anything that you are thinking of.

In fact, there is no waiting with anything relating to the world of technology. Take TV Satellite/Cable. We can now record TV shows. Kids have over 15 channels dedicated solely to cartoons, and if they miss one, or miss a part of it, because, gasp, Mom was asking them a question, all they have to do is rewind the show.

No waiting.

No patience.

All on demand.

Could I live without technology? Maybe-as long as all my friends were living without it too-

My fear isn't what I'm doing to my brain, more it's what technology and parents are doing to their children. You cannot blame technology for this though. It's our job to control it. It's our job to make them write their friend a real letter snail style.

It's our job to allow them to be a part of the technology world, but to also guide them with certain ways we had while growing up. After all, why should you be "worried," about deleting all the DORA THE EXPLORER shows recorded on the DVR? Are you afraid you'll upset your child to no avail? If so, then it's time to turn off the technology button-yours.

It hit me last night.

Brian and I know what it's like to have to change a TV channel by getting off our asses and turning a knob. We remember that Saturday morning cartoons were just that, Saturday morning cartoons. When they were over, they were over and you moved on with your day.
We didn't have instant game systems (before Gameboy) where you could walk around with your wireless hand held Nintendo DSI as you picked up the clothes in your bedroom.

We had, I feel, a pretty good balance.

For us, we remember "what it was like." We can appreciate it.

But for our children, they don't know what it's like. But it's up to us, as parents, to teach them how to appreciate what technology can give to them. Along with teaching them the "dangers" of abusing the power of technology.

Could I live without my email? I would wonder. It sounds refreshing to think about. To remove facebook, to remove email access. To notify anyone that if they want to chat with me on an instant, that they have to call me, or write me a letter. Do not text me, for my cellphone is only used for emergency purposes only. It would be an interesting project to attempt and write about. Only you wouldn't hear how it's going until it's all over, because I wouldn't be blogging. It would be transposed on paper, the old school way.

But before I start neglecting myself with all of this, because remember, I grew up without it, and whereas I admit I abuse the power of technology, I do remember what it's like not to have it. When my cell phone breaks and I have to wait a few weeks to get a new one, it might suck and I'll complain for the first few days, but then it will be okay. It's just something that takes getting used to.

Back to that Patience factor.

Patience.

Appreciation.

Just because technology gives us the ability to phone someone the minute a thought pops into our brain, does not mean we have to use it. Just because technology gives us the ability to record all our favorite shows, so that we don't miss them and have to wait until over the summer for the reruns, doesn't mean we have to use the features of the DVR.

Technology is there.

But it doesn't mean we have to let it take over our lives-especially when it comes to young children-

Yes, it is extremely important that they learn about it, to be a part of it somehow, because that is the world. But in a manner that they'll learn, in time, to appreciate.

Because summer has just started for my boys, today being the first official day of summer break, I'm going to try a little summer experiment on them.

I plan on deleting all their pre-recorded shows, and any shows set up for the future.

I plan on limiting their TV time, along with limiting what types of shows they can watch.
It's so funny that many of our parents never allowed us to watch "THREE'S COMPANY," as children, and yet some of the cartoons are far more out there, bizarre and off kilter than that show could ever be.

So I am going to teach my children how to appreciate TV, Internet, phones, technology.

If they miss the show they like. Oh well. Go outside and play. It'll be on again.

Is this going to be easy? Nope.

After all, every time I take a picture of them, they immediately want to "See the image on screen of the camera. There isn't any waiting to see whether or not your pictures turned out good or not. Now, when you have a picture taken that you think looks bad, POOF! It's deleted.

Course, that might not be that bad of a thing.

Technology is a wonderful tool. It's moved along so much it's hard to fathom. But I fear that with this new sense of power, it's also stunting our youth and their short term memory. It's not teaching them patience, or appreciation.

My closest friend grew up without a TV in their house. It wasn't until her and her sister were a senior and sophomore in HS, that their parents purchased one. Guess what? They are extremely successful. Yes, they do have a TV, cell phone, Ipad, Mac and IPhone, but they remember.
They appreciate it.

They are far more "worldly" because of what their parents did for them. Despite the fact that all their friends families had TVs and VCR.

Now obviously I'm not going to go outside, remove the satellite and put up rabbit ears.
But I am going to control how much technology is in my boys lives.

They are not going to like it, in the beginning, but just like my emotions when it came to being without a cellphone for a few weeks, they'll eventually adapt. They will learn. They will be given a taste of the past, but with a wonderful opportunity to understand and appreciate the technology that they have been blessed to grow up with.

We'll treat the computer as an encyclopedia. To keep them in tuned to technology. It won't be used for online videogames. (Sorry Webkinz, I will miss you as well.)

We will allow them to play XBOX, but for a set amount of time.

We will show them by our own example, as best as we can that it's okay not to use technology.

I know my brain needs to improve on it's memory, and the best way to do that is to not pick up my cell phone and call or text someone the minute I think of something.

Just imagine what it's doing to our children's brains, who have had this stuff swarming around them in tall towers since before conception.

It can be done.
It will be done.

My boys might not be happy.

I may ruin their summer.

But I would hope that through this project, that someday, they'll appreciate their parents teaching them that just because technology life is so a part of their life, so is appreciation, and patience.

After all, The "WIZARD OF OZ," appeared on TV once a year. You didn't catch it, you waited til next year. When that next year came, you appreciated it even more, to have the opportunity to be able to watch it on your parents new color tv.

You also learned patience.

That, my friends, is the goal for this household.

To appreciate technology but to teach them that waiting for things is perfectly fine. In fact, they may realize how much more exciting it is.

All because it wasn't right there at a touch of a remote.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have someone to text.

FEARED

2010-06-06T16:42:00.000-07:00

One of my own has a fear.
A fear that I only wish I could have.
He is terrified of going number 2.
Yes, I know there are books out there for that.
Yes, I know that I should inform his doctor, especially with the length of time it's been going on.

It took one bowel movement that was backed up and from that point, he has been terrified.
He doesn't have many fears, so when this came up, I knew how scared he must have been.
After all, he doesn't mind getting shots. Says that they're not scaring and they only hurt little.

I have informed the doctor.
I have removed the lactose.
I have made some dietary changes.
Yet his poor tushie remains red, because he holds it in.

He likes to be in charge. So I told him that he can go in a pull up or he can go on the toilet. Thinking, if he "thinks" he's in charge, it will ease the fear somewhat.

Nope.

For a little guy that loves to be in charge and control, he sure is trying very hard to control the movements.

Yes, we've actually had to give him enemas as well.
(How much is he going to hate me someday? Sorry in advance, lil guy!)

So it's an interesting twist to the overall personality of his.
To be so afraid, that when his body can no longer hold it in for him, it is as if a child is watching themselves getting an IV and seeing blood, and getting their shots and being in the dark, and seeing the boogy monster, and hearing a huge Crack (hA!) of lightening and deafening sounds of thunder.

It's that challenging.
But, I approach it when that occurs as best as I can.
I lean forward so that he can hug me. In doing so, his body can't help but to release some of those muscles, "down there."

You know how the labor and delivery nurses sound as they encourage the 10cm dilated pushing mommy to be?
Yes, that's me.

"Come on, it's okay, just breathe. Okay, now push. PUSH! It's coming. I can see it. It's okay. PUSH! You're almost there. I see more! take a breath and push. Soon it'll be over and you'll feel so much better."

I really don't know what else to say.

But what I can tell you is that I am working every avenue possible.
That includes positive incentives
Reading Poopy fear books
Singing Poopy songs
Murelax (sp)
.......
But with everything in young children, this is only a phase.
Not sleeping thru the night is only a phase.
This will pass soon and I can only imagine what's around the corner.

How's your fears?

THIS PERSON

2010-05-30T08:07:00.001-07:00

Once upon a time there was, "this person."

"This Person" was the type of person that expected to be first, treated first, bowed down to, and followed, exactly.by.the.book. This person would turn away from you if you didn't follow in their footsteps, or follow the vocal steps they would provide.

This person spent their life putting them before everyone-including any children involved in the picture-

If you disappoint (cancel) this person, the back will be turned and the room painted a pretty iceberg white, for how dare you cancel on this person!!

This person is rude, especially to the ones that help out the most.
This person is always right, never wrong.
This person always says that it's never their own fault, rather "the others."
This person will increase in cruel negative ways the more they age.

This person was invited to a BBQ.
The Hosts went the extra mile to include who is being invited, because "this person," has issues with so many people, this person will always ask another, "well, who's coming? I don't want to go if "they're" going to be there."

Unfortunately the BBQ had to be postponed and the host made attempts to contact "this person."
Only was not able to get through. Calling out the resources, assuming that the reason this person wasn't answering was because this person still has issues with the host(s).

When the host's resource informed "this person" that the party has been postponed because one of their own little people, had just woken up with a fever.

The BBQ set for Sunday after 1pm.
The fever showed up after the little ones nap, about 2:45pm on Saturday.
The cancellation announcement went out around 3:00pm Saturday, both electronically, text version and touch tone cordless."

When "this person" was given the news that the event was being postponed and that the hosts had attempted to try to contact them, "this person," immediately said that it's impossible the hosts called X amount of times, as "this person" was only tied up perhaps once, busy."

Strike One for this person. Undermining the host to the messenger. Not good, especially if it happens to be family.

Then "this person" proceeds to say, "well, it would have been nice if we could have found out sooner, I went to the store and bought them a card, if they would have told me sooner, I wouldn't have had to go to the store."

This person is not THE GRINCH.
But I fear this person's heart has started to stone over-and not in the herbal way, might I add.-

Except for when it's about them and mind you if there were such a thing as a "One Up Marathon," "this person," would win, hands down at anytime, about anything.
You talk about smelling Poop.
This person will figure out how to mention that "they walked in it."
Because everything hurts worse for them and is worse for them,
well, for "this person," that is.

This person plays the victim 24/7 and as respectful as any human may be, and should, after awhile you can see why "this person," is emotionally all alone.

That would make me sad for "this person." But I'm sure that everyone has one of those, "this persons," in their lives. If not has, then had.

What ended up happening to "this person" in your life?

One Year Ago Today

2010-05-26T04:24:00.000-07:00

One Year Ago Today
Our Family learned what tragedy feels like

We learned about not being able to be in control
We learned that a tragic moment, as tragic as "ours" was,
doesn't always end with tragedy

For us we were lucky
He was lucky
He was given another chance
To relive his life

He is
He's in school for radio broadcasting
He's producing and speaking on his own online sports talk radio station

He has changed
Changed with empathy, compassion, thankfulness and you name it

He experienced pain one year ago today
Pain that he doesn't remember
He still cannot recall the accident

We experienced pain on year ago today
Pain that when we allow ourselves to think about it
We can still remember that day
Those feelings
The Pain

I'm thankful that in this circumstance, G-d allowed my brother to be given another chance.
But my heart also breaks for so many others, who, have not been granted that opportunity.
Be thankful today.
Stop and say a prayer about your family.
Breath them in
Share them
Love them
Be there for them

In one second, it could change.
I'm grateful that G-d didn't allow us to experience the full version of what that pain could have been like, had my brother been called Home to Him, instead.

Thank You.

WEAR AND TEAR

2010-05-06T05:01:00.001-07:00

Seeking all help.
Seeking all suggestions.
Seeking all links.
All lawyers.
All tips, help and words.

Our old landlord doesn't understand the definition of wear and tear.
I'm trying to research it online with Illinois law, DuPage County law and whatever municipalities involved with Tenant rights, but I'm getting differing information and obviously not detailed enough for me.

I could just phone up an attny and go from there, but I'm trying to make that my last result.

According to her, our security deposit is going to be affected because:
1) the satellite dish is up on the roof. She had told us that she would have it professionally removed. I received a voicemail yesterday from her asking if we wanted the dish, if we had planned on having it taken down, why we haven't taken it down yet, and then she proceeded to tell me that she'll have her contractor look at it and she doesn't know how much labor he'll charge to remove it.

2) She is taking off $80 from the security deposit because once the satellite dish is off, the plate and bolts she wants out as well, and according to a roofing company that is her cost to repair the "shingles."

3) She is "dinging" us for a ding/nick/gouge that is on the control panel of the semigloss dryer that she purchased brand new, 2 years ago. She is replacing the entire control panel for a knick less then half an inch long. Um, when you turn in a leased vehicle, do you replace the entire quarter panel of the passenger side door because of a small scratch and dent?

4) She is "dinging" us for a knick (knack paddy whack) she discovered on the high gloss black dishwasher that was brand new and installed just before we moved in, four years ago. This she discovered while she "did another walk thru on the home a second time, much more closely." WHAT?

5) She is dinging us because we had put one of those child safety grey foam things along the edges of the fireplace, being that we didn't want any head bumps from a very old brick fireplace. When she decided to remove the foam proof item, it left that sticky goo behind. Again, according to her voicemail she left me, she is going to "ding" us because she doesn't know how long it will take for her contractor to remove it, and that's all part of his labor charges.

Um, has she ever heard of GOO-OFF?

This ends part 1 of Wear and Tear.
Part II involves the things I DID to prepare the house for the landlord walk thru.

She doesn't rent anymore then this home, so that might help you with your advice pertaining to interest bearing deposits as well as a written itemization letter stating damages vs "wear and tears."

Also, if I could get everything unpacked I would find the box labeled, "Important docs" because in it somewhere, is our lease.

This woman is JACKED.
To think she's a realtor? Good gravy.
She couldn't even clean up the mold left behind from a broken A/C vent.
Yet she wants to "ding" us for a scratch on a dryer? She wants the dryer to be new for the next tenant since it was new when we moved in.

Uh, okay lady. I'm sure the new car owner wants the used car he's buying to be in just as brand new shape as it was when the previous owner drove it off the lot with a 3 year lease.

BYE BYE Old HOME

2010-05-03T05:58:00.000-07:00

We moved!
The move itself went well considering we have had since March to move things in slowly. That makes a difference, especially when it comes to moving day. My immediate family and awesome spouses helped us make the final move on Saturday, and they were all unloaded in our new home by 3:00pm. This also included bringing in all the furniture pieces we had stored in the garage on one of our many other trips out here.

It feels good.
It feels different.

It feels great to finally have wireless and not be limited to one area. We're getting to know our house and all her sounds and light fixtures and it's such a fun exploration.

Nothing bad has happened to us in this new home. No flu's, no fights, no colds, not sadness. Fresh board of living we have to look forward to. Freshly painted walls that might have a couple of happy prints from our boys, but that's good, it's a new start.

I'm not rushing to unpack everything, because why? I can take my time, and I will. We hopefully have the rest of our 'young lives' to unpack in here, and why rush. Instead we're running around with the boys downstairs in the basement. Playing tag and throwing foam Nerf footballs, and drawing chalk all along the basement floor. It's already been turned into a Sports/hopscotch/scooters/Foosball/chalk floor room. (How awesome is that going to be in the dead of winter! I'll ship them straight down to the basement where it's like being outdoors, without the snow.)

As soon as I have a few more things situated, I'll happily get some pictures up and out on here. But I can't find my cable for the camera and laptop.

Speaking of can't find,...have any of you seen a box labeled, "saran wrap, zippies?"

CONNIE PATIENCE

2010-04-27T17:24:00.000-07:00

I'm sure some of you have met her. If you're a part of my world, you may have heard about her, dealt with her, who knows with her.

Ironically her name came from Ben's language delay. Ben has 1 fear.
Yes, just 1 fear.

He'll jump off stairs, fall face first onto our concrete driveway and not shed a tear, but when it comes to using the bathroom for number 2, forget about it.

Yes, I know, that's an actual phobia for some.
Yes, I know, there are books I can find on how to help your child overcome their fear of pushing out the poop

It didn't start off that way. It took one visit from "CONNIE PATIENCE" that jacked up the future of all his poops to the present point in time.

Every visit to the potty has him in utter fear of "Connie Patience," and he will act as though he is deal with constipation. Only it's a normal movement.

The fear although funny with how he says it, "Mommy, me no yous have Connie Patience. Me get a dicker for Connie Patience, okay Mommy? Okay?"

How can you not feel bad for someone when they dub poop and stickers words that you can 0only hope you'll remember someday to embarrass him in front of his future wife.

But I don't think I'll go as far to tell her how I'm able to calm him down. As he works on the pushing (I feel like a labor and delivery nurse: "push Ben, push, you can do it. Breathe and push down, tuck your chin down, push..) I sit in front of him and wrap my arms around him in a hug wishing so much that I had some of those old swine flu masks laying around.

He has one fear, but thankfully his fear is far from what his own Mom experiences.
I wonder how he'd say diarrhea, if I asked him?

I Can't Hear You!

2010-04-19T17:35:00.000-07:00

If you're a parent and you find yourself reading this tedious post, you are now required to leave feedback. It's not often that I make a mandatory reply, if I have ever, but right now, I seek your opinions.

I've often thought that parenting is different based on the parents doing the parenting, the personalities of the children, how the parents themselves were raised, and of course any surrounding matter that makes up the "material" part of their life.

I've always thought that parenting for one won't be the same for another.
Which should be fine.

As long as the family isn't being abusive or neglectful in any way, parenting is different in each household.

Which is why I'm curious to know your opinion on something I will address shortly.
You may be beyond this stage of parenting, or in it manner deep and struggling with your own, "I'm just not sure what to do," but how should a parent parent, in your opinion?

Hold on a second, I have to finish that last part.

How do or did you parent your children when they were in a stage of 'hearing' you but not listening to you and following direction?

How do or did you parent your children when it had to do with manners at the dinner table as well as the treat of eating out?

Do you feel it's important to have sitdown dinners with your young ones? Obviously the older they get, it becomes far more difficult to have sit down dinners. With saying that, do you believe that by not having a family sit down dinner, or if that isn't possible, a daily "town council sit down chat" will hurt your family?

Will make your children respect you less?
Will make your children not hear you?
Will make you feel invisible?
Will will will..

I will parent the way I see fit. Period.
But I'm curious, how would you parent your children if they were currently having difficulties with using their ears as well as using their manners?

Sit up straight, and type your comment away. Just please be sure to keep your elbows off the laptop please.

IN HIDING

2010-04-07T17:48:00.000-07:00

Yikes, I have neglected this blog for so long I'm embarrassed to even post. To add insult to injury, I'm not even visiting yours. I suck, I know.

So, finally, there's another little girl in our family. I think the most of you may remember that my parents have 9 grandchildren and out of those 9, 7 are boys. Back in March my younger sister gave birth to their third child, and finally, a little girl. Who actually was given my first name as a middle name.

We've been hectic with painting the new house, and cleaning up and packing this one up. It's been interesting trying to find just the right paint to cover up bedrooms that obviously held girls. (OF COURSE, right?) So I have to say how thankful I am for Behrs paint and primer combined. It's done wonders for pink walls, and red walls and DORA the Explorer Purple sort of walls.

We've had Passover, Palm Sunday, my new little niece's baptism, and then Easter.
Through all of it, I think I've finally mastered the trick of being well. Being healthy that is.
Knock on lots of wood, I haven't had any "bad days" since January! I think we finally have a balance down with things. Naturally there are some recent symptoms (weight loss and shaking hands), but most likely it's due to the medication.) I'll take that. Thank goodness there's computers. If this were happening in the 80's I'd be a screwed pooch trying to write out a term paper with how yucky my handwriting has been as of late.

Life is Good.
I'll be back.
Don't give up on me, promise?

TO HAVE THE ANSWER TO THE ONE QUESTION YOU FEAR

2010-03-23T17:44:00.000-07:00

Imagine if you knew when you were going to die. Imagine if you knew how much time you had left, here. How would you approach that? Would you put a bucket list together and enjoy the time that you had left? Make sure you fixed any transgressions? Prepare your farewells to your friends and family?

After all, some of us have this fear, this fear of death, or the unknown of dying. The fear about how it will happen, when and what will happen after. You try to push it out of your brain and usually you're successful, because you are not going to walk thru life worrying about something completely and utterly out of your control.

Then you move beyond your 20's. Then you get married. Then someone dies in your family like a grandma and you are reminded of death as you gaze at her stitched up and drained body prepared only for the means of closure for those of us that are still here. That still irks me. I'm not sure I want people seeing me like that. Bad makeup, lips stitched together..eeks.

But as I was saying. You move beyond your 20's, you get married, you have kids and then it happens. You realize that you're not invincible, having a husband and kids makes death seem all too much more vulnerable, more fearful. Because not only do you have it in your head, you have to discuss it with your children. You talk about it with your husband, you sign it with your lawyer and your 5wishes.

It becomes so much more then just growing old and dying. It becomes isolating, lonesome, scary because you see your Grandma walk thru life after losing Grandpa 7 years ago, sad and unhappy with how life has changed so much. Sure you tell yourself that you're not going to become one of those nilly nellies. You'll live life even if it's in your 80's.

For some of us we will, but no matter, we will need someone to take care of us, we'll have to depend on someone to be there to help us with driving, or yard work, or whatever aliment that might have stricken your body at that age. But you are not a bitter 80 year old woman, you walk thru each day enjoying each breath, each grandchild and if we're lucky, great grandchildren.

But the older you get, you realize you're one step closer to that part of your life. You accept that it will one day happen, and for some it's a relief when you're that old and unable to live your life like you did in your memories. You know it's there, death. You fear it happening to your children after already dealing with the loss of your husband of 55years.

Like I said, death becomes more then just a word, it's far more powerful. Even if you are the most religious person in the world, you still will talk and pray about things related to death. Even if you're totally not afraid, because you know where you'll be, it's still there.

But imagine if you knew an approximation of when you will die. Imagine if the fear of waiting for that time, would go away because you would know.
It would reveal itself to you. Imagine if you knew what you were going to die from. Would it relieve you to know the answer to something all of us think about even if you're totally okay with it?

Now, imagine you're a healthy, strong, athletic, never really sick, 28 year old kid. Imagine if you're the youngest out of 3 boys. Imagine that your two older brothers both married and they both have 3 sons each. Imagine you are married and just last March your wife delivered your first child, a little girl. Finally! A little girl in your family that has forever been, aside from "Mom," all boys.

Now imagine if you're told that you have 2-3years left, max and you will die from something that has no cure. If you're lucky 2-3 years and that's based on when the symptoms first started, so for you, that would mean you have 1-2years left. How then would you manage? Your unknown thoughts are answered. You are given the time frame of when you will die and what you will die from.

Is it a relief to know this? Even at this age? To know that you will NOT see your daughter start kindergarten, won't see her lose her first tooth, won't see her actually comprehend the awesomeness of Santa. You won't see her crying on Santa's lap until she realizes that he's on her side. You might not even see her talk. She will be so young, that she most likely will not remember you. You will not walk her down the aisle. You will not be able to fulfill your roll as a Daddy. As dad with a teenage daughter. As father of the bride.

I cannot wrap my head around this. The reason being is because one of our forever longterm friend was just told he has ALS. This boy, this young man, a close close friend of my brothers, played baseball with strength. Ran the defense on Friday night football games with galloping grace and some serious powerhouse moves. A great family.

This family traveled with us during my brother's baseball games. They sat and cheered with us as they ran the football field like the most successful company you've ever seen. The family that, even just last year, dropped everything to come to my parents side when my brother was in that terrible car accident. Waiting while my brother was in surgery to try to stop the bleed in his brain, to try to fix his fractured skull.

This wonderful always giving of a young man. A good kid, even in his teenage years. That didn't get involved in the drinking and fearless roles that many teenage boys end up being cast for. A good all around great kid. The family well known and liked just because they are who they are. The one brother marrying his longtime high school sweetheart.

Approximately 6000 people will be given the diagnosis of ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease), and 98% of them will be men in their 40's and 50's. Not 20's.
It is a cruel awful sick disease, one that I witnessed thru my sister's husband-his uncle dying from it. A newsbroadcaster that lives in the same town as I do, that has it. Or rather, is dying from it.

Which is how it always happens. You will die from it, without a doubt. There is nothing that they can do to stop it, but they can help ease the symptoms as much as they can. There is no cure.

I know what will happen to this young guy. I know what will happen to his body. I know what ALS will do to him. I pray and pray for a miracle. A cure, a sudden revelation just like the botox discovery. There is the 10 80 10 rule. 80% of the people given the diagnosis of ALS will die within the time frame they are given. 10% will die earlier then the doctors thought, and 10% will surpass it.

I'm hoping and praying that he'll be part of that 10%. There have been cases where men with ALS live with the disease for 10years. As to what quality of life, I don't know. Yet 10 years. That would mean he would be in his late 30's.

The symptoms that he has and how the disease has already progressed isn't a good start to that 10% for 10years.

It makes me sick to know that eventually nothing will work, he will not be able to talk, he eventually will only be able to blink. Yet his brain, his brain will still function and he will still feel. He will eventually suffocate to death when the time comes after the breathing tube has long since carried this young man. When the feeding tube that has helped keep him nourished, is no longer needed. Eventually the other side of him will stop working. Will atrophy. His head will eventually hang down because of this disease. He will eventually choke on his saliva and so the breathing tube and feeding tube will start.

I don't mean to be so graphic, so down, but I am compelled to discuss this because so many of us are clueless to the rare no cures of the world. Clueless to what it does to not only the patient, but the entire family. Like rare brain tumors in little children. This young man has been told when and how he will die.

I need to write about this to make people more aware of ALS. Google it, you'll see what I mean. I want people to understand the pain families will have to face. In this circumstance, a very rare circumstance for such a young man to be given this curse, what the next year or 2 will mean for him, his wife, their little girl.

I want people to understand this disease more because the more you're aware, the more you care and the more you help in prayers, support and ways to help work towards a cure.

In this situation I want people to understand that this young man, who used to always say to my brothers and his friends, how he couldn't wait for the day when he would have a son, like the rest of his friends, and they would be able to be their son's coach.

Now, he is making out his bucket list. Even though his left side is now completely atrophied and his voice is already changing. This 28year old is making out a list of things to do before ALS makes it impossible for him to do so. Sure the one thing on his list, "make a son" isn't possible. But going to the masters, hopefully, is. Going to a Yankee's game, hopefully is.

Hopefully, not only will we be able to help with fundraisers, and to help make his list come true, but hopefully I pray every night for a cure. It has to happen.

This young man, ironically an athlete himself like Lou Gehrig should not be dealing with this.

Yet he is. He knows when is time is. He knows how it will happen. He knows he'll have the chance to say goodbye. In a way that's a peaceful process. Nothing sudden where your loved one is tragically ripped away from your ability to physically hug them and talk to them.

It still doesn't make death go away, even when you know how and when. But it gives you time to not fear it.

What would you do if this was you? If this was your brother? Your youngest son? Your husband? Your friend?

Please keep this wonderful young man, you thankfully moved with his wife up to Michigan where her family is a few years ago. That gives me some relief to know that his wife will have her family near. His family, in this town, here, will continue to make the journey up to Michigan. To help make his bucket list come true.

TOO PERSONAL?

2010-03-11T18:12:00.000-08:00

When do you draw your line of personal information?
Let's talk about it in terms of giving birth.
What do you, as mom's prefer to have out there to all your fellow friends and family members? And, what don't you want out there?

With the way things are today, it's so simple to get an update, unlike years ago when even the Daddies to be weren't even allowed in the room. Plus, THEY DIDN'T HAVE EPIDURALS!

What do you draw the line at?
Does it vary based on the relationship you have with that person?

I'm honestly curious to know your opinions on this. Consider it sort of a Crusty quest. Why?

That doesn't matter, what matters is what you think. What I want to know is, if you are a Mommy, what did you want mentioned, done, shown, spoken of, and what didn't you. If you're on the receiving end, say a sister or a sister in law, a cousin, what information did they give you on the birth of a new baby, and were you satisfied?

Yes, I do believe that what we want out there isn't necessarily the issue here, it's WHO we tell the "what" to, that matters.
It boils down to the relationship that you have with that person.

So tell me, when does a delivery go from update to TOO MUCH INFORMATION?

HUH?

2010-03-01T14:46:00.000-08:00

I'm sure you've seen the faces.
Those very bizarre looking faces.
The ones that look like a young terrorist, a cranky old man, a woman with puffy hair from the 80's.

Those faces.
That gracefully adorn the ads online telling you:
OBAMA BACKS EDUCATION! RETURN TO SCHOOL!!!!
MORTGAGE RATES AT THEIR ALL TIME LOW!!!!

Who. What. Where. When. and Why?

Who?: I'd like to know the marketing company that generates those ads.
What?: exactly is their point?
Where?: Do they find these pictures of people
When?: Are they going to stop with those bizarre, and often times, scary, faces?
Why?: put pictures up of people that unfortunately you'd prefer not to spend your day with in a classroom? Or a bank with the Cranky elderly Loan officer all crinkle face up?

Lastly,
Are those images of actual people posing? Or are they intentionally making the images a bit more exaggerating to generate more chatter (LIKE I'M DOING HERE!!), about the ads?

I mean, huh?
I just don't get it.
If you haven't seen those ads yet, now you will.
All the time.

I Heard Spring In The Snow

2010-02-20T08:31:00.000-08:00

Are you familiar with that "pants on the ground" song?
I don't have time or energy to watch American Idol anymore, as much as I'd like to. Even after DVRing the show, I still hadn't watched a single episode, but that didn't mean I didn't hear about that song and "The General."

Funny enough, my Mom told me about the song and told me to check it out on YouTube.

If you know the tune, then sing along to the words below:

"Spring In the Snow
Spring In the Snow
Looking like a fool
For my garden hoe.

Ice blocks melting
Birds are Singing
It's almost time to get the Cadbury hopping...
Spring In The Snow..."

But seriously, I did hear Spring In the Snow early this morning when I took our poochie outback for her potty. (We have a fenced yard, but there's been an increase of coyotes and one dog was put down after they were attacked, so I'm being a good poochie owner and watching my pet.-Another story another day-)

While out back about quarter to 6 this morning, I heard sounds of song that if you were unfamiliar to our Chicago Seasons you'd swear it was the snow singing to you.

But it wasn't the snow singing. It was the sounds of the morning birdies that come back in the Spring.

As they start the process of their early morning song.
As they arrive for dress rehearsal every morning to be fine tuned and nestled when Spring is in full swing.

It was just the sounds I needed to hear to remind me that Spring will be here.
Before I say April Showers, it will be Summer and we'll be listening to the sounds of the night birds melting the summer nights with their sultry summer night musicals.

This Summer it will be different for us. Because as of yesterday we are fully committed and will be moving out of the town that we currently live in. We've purchased a home!! -that we all can agree on-

Yes, I am sad to leave this town behind, but I have family here, and memories here and it will forever be the place where I grew up, so that can never be taken away.

Besides, I'll have some benefits to the new town we're moving into;
~being closer to my mom's family roots
~and closer to that delicious candy store that makes amazing caramel apples in the Fall

There are many other advantages too. But I think I'll just leave you with 2 for right now.

If you're in the Midwest or any frozen chilly state, what hints have you seen for signs of Spring?

Sugar Sweet Before 40 Days Of Lent

2010-02-16T16:54:00.000-08:00

Today's the day we're supposed to eat lots of sweet donuts.

I chose not to, lest I want to feel real sick later on.

Instead I focused on what I can give up for 40 days of Lent.
I can't say Starbucks and Greasy food, because I have to avoid these,
lest I get sick. Maybe a regular cup of coffee once or twice a month.
Saved for a Saturday morning with my wonderful big dog.

But what could I give up this year?
Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and I'm focused on Lent. Don't ask me why.
Yes it's my religion, but I'm also very opened minded about our Jewish Religion. I love the culture, the family togetherness, some of the goofy stereotypes from both religions. You know, Lutherans are known for their potlucks. Jewish people are know for their soup.

I love the disciplines that come with following that Faith. I have a lot of respect for the Jewish religion. I have picked up parts of it and made it part of my life as well (ie: G-d). Does that make me a hypocrite? I was thinking that today on the car ride home from work.

Am I jacked up and contradicting because I take two parts of two different Faiths, and I believe in both. Sounds strange, but I believe in both. However that's where I come in for the hypocritical part. How can I possibly believe in both, when there are some obvious differences as far as the beliefs and confirmation vs bar Mitzvahs. I wish G-d could say, "no sweat, freak. I got your back. I enjoy that you blend the two together. I started Religion and as your trunk, it grew branches. Branches that go in different directions, different ideals, but there's still me hanging out with the woodpecker in the trunk."

If I ever heard Him say that? For you all to be a fly on my crusty wall=watch the finger prints= that would be a treat to witness, huh?

But I do feel all warm and fuzzy by honoring both, respecting both. Maybe that's what it's about too. Not always about the belief, but about you respecting others beliefs, even if they're different than yours. I think that's what He really hopes for.

Listen to me, all churchy. You see what I mean? When was the last time I actually wrote about my feelings on my Faith?

G-d wants me back, He misses me.

So I thought, hmm, what could I give up for 40days?
Definitely not you guys.
Not this.
Not FB..

but, I think I could give up anger. At least expressive anger? Uh, anger isn't the same as crabby. I am, after all a crusty mom-e.
I would though, I would love to walk 40 days without expressing anger or frustration. You know how in tuned you'd have to be with yourself to focus on that? I might forget to blog.

But, if it helps keep that warm and fuzzy feeling in my body, even if it's blended, I'm okay with that.

I miss Him too.

Terminal Beef

2010-02-13T09:06:00.001-08:00

I write this today with a frustrated heavy heart.

There is this family that we know (one of their 2 children attends the same school as our sons) who's husband, who's YOUNG husband, mind you, has been battling Pancreatic Cancer for the past 3 years.

This father, a tremendous example of a dad. Even while terribly ill, as recent as last year, he would attend his son's scout outings and campouts. Sometimes he'd have to leave because of how he was feeling, but he still showed up. He still, in the midst of the battle he knew was terminal, still found strength and willpower to go with his one son, his only son, to as many activities as he could.

He followed that same pathway with his younger daughter.

Sadly, his battle ended and his new journey began about a week ago. He leaves behind a wife and 2 children and many loved ones, family and friends.
Too young.
Another wife part of a club that no one ever asks to be part of.

To add insult to everything, which is the reason for my "beef," is his wonderful sweet wife, who has followed his journey with emotional pain as he was met with physical pain, who like him, had a full time job, while carrying for her terminal husband and still managing to be a Mom to her children had one request:

All that she asked is for time off from her place of work. A corporate place of work. They refused to give her time off, paid time off, when her husband was at the "hospice" stage of his cancer. She managed to be there as much as she could, because she knew, towards the end of his illness, she'd be needed at home to spend his last few days on earth, with her husband.

Her job would NOT give her paid time off. What is wrong with this world???!!
I cannot tell you how sick that made me feel. Sure this may sound like a cranky tired woman complaining about everything, but I'm sorry. There should be more policies in effect for all these large companies that give support to families faced with a terminal illness, instead of making it more difficult for them.

She was told she could take unpaid (she had used her time off on other occasions to care for him) for a certain period of time, and after that, she'd either have to return to work, or apply for long term disability.

Your husband is on his few however many days or weeks with cancer, and you not only are dealing with that awful pain, but something like this.

Sad.

Yes she stayed with him during his time on hospice. But as if this poor woman needed one other thing to worry about.

Makes me wish that somehow, something could change. That companies could learn to care more. To be a better different. Across the board! Despite the socio-economic (is that the right word??) situation of any family dealing with a spouse or child dying of cancer.

Isn't there something we can do?
Besides pray and wish and bitch and cry?

I don't know.
But what I know is that there are a lot of very cold and selfish people out there.

I am the SNOW MOMSTER

2010-02-10T18:37:00.000-08:00

We had our usual minor snow fall last night. Just over 10inches. Which is nothing.
Nothing that we're not used to.
Now compared to our poor Eastern pals, they're not used to any of it, nor the crazy amounts that they've been getting.
I think when President Obama left Chicago, he brought some of Chicago with him. This is, after all, his first full Winter season in the White House.

So, we had the winter storm warning last night. Apparently the possibly foot of snow was to really increase in inches over night...

At 3:59am Brian and I were woken by a loud rumbling. Like a large amount of snowplow trucks were heard rumbling towards our home. Getting closer and closer, and shaking our entire house as the trucks moved closer. Even Marina was growling! Our mirrors were shaking and in a matter of less then 20sec it was over.

So we went back to bed, after walking Ben back into his room, as he too, was woken by the noise.

Much to our surprise, this morning we were informed that the "noise" was actually an earthquake.
In Illinois?
Yep, you read it right.

School remained in session.
So, we get almost a foot of snow with 20mph (that's nothing for the windy city) winds.
An earthquake wakes up many..
and the schools still remained open.

It took one thing to prevent the walk to school.
That one thing would be a bug.
A teeny tiny bug that brings on fevers and tummy aches.

We may not have been stopped by large amounts of snow, or a brief but bizarre earthquake, but this little tiny bug definitely caused two of our boys to have to stay home from school today.

Could be worse.

LIKE KATIE COURIC DURING HER COLONOSCOPY EXCEPT I'M NOT KATIE -WARNING!! ICKY INSIDE PICTURES!!!!!!---

2010-02-02T17:10:00.001-08:00

As you all know, I have issues with my tushie. I have been dubbed Tuba ass from my close friends, because you just don't know what sort of sounds/issues will come up with my poor rear end.

As the day of the Colonoscopy approached, I feared the nasty beverage, and would rather have been eating the chocolate gelt you see behind the colon prep Movicrap.

2times! Yes, I had to drink out of this nasty jug. 2 times, filled up to the rim, 8oz in 15minute increments. Man, woman, thing, I have to say the stuff made me sick after I started the 2nd prep. Just about an hour after finishing the first jug.
I mean, vomit sick in addition to what it's "supposed to doodoo."

But I was prepared for what lay ahead.

You see, I was warned that the tushie could very well begin to burn due to the amount of time and well, you know, "stuff coming out of the rear."

So, I bought tushie cleansing wipes and pulled out Ben's pull up wipes. Not to short change myself, I also pulled out Ben'ss Chamomile and Lavender Vaseline. Then I proceeded to fill up a big pitcher* of hot water and a few washcloths.

*Picture a Crusty version of a Bidet.

Note: as the daughter of a plumber, I must tell you, never, ever, ever, flush any of those moist wipes down the toilet. Even ones meant to clean the rear. They will mess up your pipes, eventually.

You can see from this picture that the moist cleansers had been open. The pitcher of hot water is out of camera view, along with the many warm washcloths in which I threw out, after this part of the "prep."

I do have to tell you, well, urge you, that if you ever have to prep for a colonoscopy, use all of the items I listed above.

After the first time you start going, here's the steps I highly suggest you take:

1) wet moist adult and child wipe.

2) dab dab dab with the toilet paper.
3) Crusty Bidet (splash or pour or with aid of cloth, douse the backend with that warm water)
4) APPLY LARGE AMOUNTS of the Vaseline around the area. (but use the lavender chamomile kind.) Check the baby aisles of your local store. Trust me, your bottom will thank you.
5) Oh, and have an extra roll of TP near by, should you finish the first roll. It's not easy getting up off the toilet when you're mount Rushmore butt style.

I thought I would be satisfied having more then enough reading material, but I never got around to even seeing what's up with the Jonas brothers because when the prep takes effect, all you can do is focus.

Focus on what will sound like a man's pee first thing in the morning. HA, How many followers have I just lost? Because that's what it will sound like; pee.
Except it will be out of the rear end.

B
But, if you're lucky, and you do the prep right, and you have the right person alongside you to take you home and hold your hand, you might get to bring home a cool souvenir.....

WARNING!!!!! DO NOT SCROLL DOWN IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE MODERN MEDICINE COLON PICTURES!!!

A HEALTHY LOOKING COLON!!

Yep, that would be my colon. I, in my twilight haze, asked my doctor for pictures. According to him when he asked who I planned on showing, I told him the Internet.
What?

If you can see the diagram below the pictures, you'll be able to match the numbers with each frame of picture.
Because they're not in order.
According to my Specialist, I've got the colon of a 20 year old.

Yes, and that last picture? That would be picture 9, the anus.
Yes, those are what you think-"piles of grapes."

Or what a Doctor would dub as hemorrhoids.

See? I told you this was like the colonoscopy debut of Katie Couric. Only I'm not Katie Couric, nor do I have a job like hers, nor a salary like hers.

Just pictures of my large intestines, the start of my small intestines and my butt crack.
Pretty freakin' fabulous, don't you think?

Don't say I didn't warn you about viewing the post.
Because I did.

**UPDATE: I was so into showing you my "in toos" that I forgot to mention this lil bit on tushies. As you recall, I spent a Sunday in the hospital due to what they thought was food poisoning so they didn't run any tests. Except one that I asked them to, a fecal test. Because as quick and ill as I got, because of my history, I wanted to rule out any bacteria. The test comes in two days later, results sent to my primary doctor, no bacteria. So, it was obvious that perhaps it wasn't food poisoning, and more so a really bad attack.

You would imagine my surprise, when 3 days afterwards, a bill came in the mail, in the amount of $95osomething dollars. I have it around here somewhere.

$950 to take what looks like a mini Popsicle stick, scrap the um, er "sample" onto the stick. Picture someone scraping brown thick paste (suddenly I have lost even more followers) along the inside of the plastic white bowl and pushing the scraped portion that lay pooled on the mini Popsicle stick into a larger version of a test tube. To be tested of course.

$950 for that.
$950 for shoveling crap onto a stick and then into a tube.
Of course, my responsibility for that is only, $250.oo.
So here you go, here's $250 of my husband's hard earned money to scrap and read, my poop shoot.

If that's not enough to make me sick, well, thankfully I reminded myself of the colon prep and laughed because I haven't even received the bill for the doctor that got to read the crap test.

I imagine that'll be a hoot to see too. I wonder if he cooked it?
You know, Cook Poo?*

*those of you that watch the show will know what I'm talking about.*

Time Moves Forward

2010-01-30T14:03:00.000-08:00

No matter how many seasons go by...

No matter how many roads you tread...

Whether rain or shine, snow or sleet...

Time never stops.. it keeps moving forward..
season by season
turn by turn

Even light bulbs flicker or run out...
because of time.

Season by season..
time by time..
dream by dream..

Time moves on while you sleep...
So fall asleep with your little ones..
snuggle and buggle and cuddle them..
even if you are all sweaty and hot.

Hold onto them..
Grasp their tiny fingers..
Soothe their chapped lips with strawberry flavored chapstick...

Dream alongside your little one..
snuggled up to you for no reason..
except for the reason of "just because."

Not for any reason except for accepting time..
As you both dream..
snuggled and warm..
you and your loved one..
a pet or a newborn..

Because Time Moves Forward...
and before you know it...
each dream of your night...
your night from the past...
will one day be part of a memory.

No matter how many seasons that you see...
Or how many light bulbs you will change...
The best part of time...
is the moments of snuggle..

Because some day...
one day..
your Soul will float up to Heaven...

Thankful and grateful...
You'll be in your soul..
knowing that
their beating hearts
Of Seasons, light bulbs and earthly time
will matter the least..
all because they'll have their memories...
for ever and ever...
for no other reasons...
all because..
you took the time...
but just to snuggle...

It happened again

2010-01-25T17:37:00.000-08:00

Had a great evening Saturday. Went to our friends house and then the group of us headed out to the bowling alley. Great fun.

12:30AM arrives and we are at home after a fun filled evening.
Suddenly I end up, once again, really ill.
Except this time it was a vomit fest from 12:30 in the morning until 7:00am. Over 13times.
Naturally there was not any relief, unlike on some occasions after you throw up you have that sensation of "ah, my tummy isn't contracting anymore." Nope, not Saturday night.
Soon my TUBA ASS started it's song and like a colonoscopy prep, I knew we would be paying a visit to the ER.

By 7:00am I had exhausted all attempts to keep fluids and meds in and Brian took me to the ER.

Food Poisoning.
They thought.
So did I.
Got a nice burning shot in my tush, zofran by IV and a few bags of fluids and life felt better. I rejected any offers for narcotics because I didn't want my already weak tummy any weaker. They did suggest Adivan (sp) and although it's like the king of Valium. Come to find out when your stomach is cramping up and in a lot of pain, it actually can relieve the symptoms. So I agreed to it and every muscle within my body opened itself up to pure relaxation.

Food poisoning.

That's exactly what we all thought.
There were no blood draws or catscans. The only test was a pretty fecal test that will have results in a few days.

5hours later I'm able to go home.
Spent some time with my mother in law and Grandma in law who, by luck, happened to be in town visiting us, before crashing for the rest of the day. Remember, I had been up all night with absolutely zero zzz's. Just cold tiles pushed up against my tushie and a porcelain chill leaning on my pancakes.

Monday morning arrives, I wake up and BAM! Pam is here.

So, food poisoning? Not so sure anymore.

2nd opinions are not in the works starting with a call to a Gyne maven out at Rush on Michigan avenue downtown Chicago.

Thoughts?
Tips?

I'm out of ideas, answers and anything else.
Very frustrated and annoyed at not only the expense of this all, but all the time down from whatever this frustrating issue is.

There, off my toilet box.

What's new with you?

STIMU-LESS

2010-01-14T16:38:00.000-08:00

Sigh.
As you know, we've been in search of a home since July of this past year.
Since the day our landlord came over and told us her marriage was ending because
her husband was having an emotional affair with his coworker. Which meant, we needed to move
out as soon as we could, (30day legally) because emo daddy was moving out of their 1.5million dollar home and moving in here.

Obviously they're working on their marriage because we are still here.
But after that frustrating day, we've been looking at homes.
We've been trying to find a home that fits us.
A home we would own.
We miss being homeowners.
We were lucky though, when we sold our place is Florida and moved back here, it was just before everything went south, and there was actually a bidding war going on for our home.
Ha, not now.

I wanted to stay in the town we're at.
The school system is above and beyond excellent.
Matter of fact it's ranked up there in top public school districts in the USA.
I grew up here, so there's that sort of family pass the torch sort of thing.
It's also a darling, conservative, fun stores and french markets, type of town.

We knew going into the house hunt that to buy a house here,
will mean less house for more money.
But we were okay with that because we'd be close to my parents.
My relatives.

We set ourselves a budget, factoring in an ideal cost of utilities, homeowners insurance,
and the ect... Oh, did I mention this town works perfect for all of us because the train
is an easy access for Bigdog to catch into work.

So we gave ourselves a nice cushion going into the search. When I say that, I mean that we
didn't overextend what we're currently paying in monthly costs.
Ever since the US went belly up like an angry Betta fish, we've learned not to end up in situations where we could be in trouble.

Sure you don't know the future, job security as well as health security, so we took that all into consideration as we ventured out into the land of FOR SALES.

Typically around here, a 3bdrm 2Th 1700sq home built in the 1950s will go for anywhere from 3$00,ooo and up, depending on the upgrades. Back at the beginning of September, we found a house.
A darling, upgraded, in town, with in law quarters ranch that would work perfectly.

The process went along slowly because while the home was on the market, the kitchen was under a renovation, so we couldn't do the home inspection until the kitchen was finished. We had the house tested for Radon, and the test came back where they'd need a Radon mitigation system (in ILLINOIS, or at least this county, if the levels of radon come back beyond a 4, it is the sellers responsibility to put in the system-by law). The buyers pay to have the inspection done, and if the levels come back beyond that number, the seller must pay to have the system installed.

We arrive at the point of the Home Inspection, and thankfully for us, my Dad is in the industry where he was able to conduct the plumbing portion of the inspection, and 3 other contractors that he knows came in for the Furnace/AC, carpentry, electricity, blah blah blah. My dad is very thorough. To the point where he even TV'd the sewer lines to see the condition of the home's sewer.

The inspection came back with many things wrong. Not to code. Possible asbestos. A garage that might be pulling away from the foundation, a sewer that is backpitched and will be in need of a replacement.

A roof, and some more of this not being at code, and that. So, we requested the necessary things to be repaired and the seller was only willing to give us $1200 in concessions to repair the items, and they "agreed" to put the radon in. Naturally, the potential issues would range more so in at least at $8000, possibly more over time.

So we pulled the contract.
We've looked at house after house after house.
Frustrated that we would be spending so much money for a small home without a lot of land to move with.

Until Brian and I decided to extend our house hunting into an entirely different area.
My sister's area about 40minutes south of here and far from plain, with many fields. A newer area, with homes deliciously lbigger (3500 square feet bigger) that costs less then the minis in our town. The property taxes are a lot higher, but again, we tried our best to budget that in.

We found a home in my sister's subdivision and immediately fell in love with it. The seller was already losing over $100,000 on it, but it's a relocation so there's a different process involved.
The home, 4 bedrooms, 3full baths, a formal Living and Dining room, a family room, a den or office, a dual staircase, sunroom, stainless steel appliances, $2000 landscape upgrade (They paid to have tree's put in their back yard, versus the standard new subdivision trees.) The house had it all and then some.

So we put an offer on it this week. The day after my birthday as a matter of fact.

It's not going to work.
When we did the numbers, we realized the amount of money we would need to bring to closing was far more then what we'd need for the town we're in now.
Which is funny because the prices were about the same.
The difference, the property taxes.
The taxes out there range from $8900 and up.

Could we stretch it? Sure.
But that's exactly what we don't want to do,
especially when everything is in the state that it's in.

So, here we are, back to square one.
Anxious and frustrated and really tired of all of this disappointment.

Now, we will most likely have to rethink where we will be looking at, because we've tasted the beauty of a beautiful home and I have to say, it's hard to go back to looking at homes built in 1950 with radon issues.

There you have it.
I think we may take our search west of here. West of a river, with one high school in the town, but that has the same old town feel as this, without the crazy taxes.

Who knows.

I'm pretty sure our realtor will be firing us soon.
I'd fire ourselves too after all the homes we've looked at.
I haven't even begun to tell you about the other homes that we put offers on...

When did life get so YIKES?

AN HONEST REMINDER FOR MOM-E

2010-01-12T17:34:00.001-08:00

Everytime I watch this, and I've watched it 4x already, I get that lump, and I cry.
Because it is true.
Because it will be the same here, someday.

If you're just starting out as a parent, live the ordinary moments, as much as you can.

RUN RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN YOU CAN'T CATCH ME...

2010-01-06T18:58:00.000-08:00

I was all set to leave you visuals.
Visuals of MOVIPREP.
Visuals of Vaseline. Warm Wipes. Magazines. A Book. A glass of Warm water and a wash cloth.
I even took pictures.

But I am not going to make the upload on time.

You see, tomorrow, at 1:45 I will have my long awaited Colonoscopy and Upper GI. Today at 4pm I started the prep. 240ML of prep in 8oz every 15minutes. WOW!

As I said to my mom, "OH my gosh, it feels like I'm peeing out of my butt!"

Then I got sick. 2hours after the first 240ML.
I got sick again.
And again.
And again.

Not a good start to the prep. I'm supposed to start the 2nd 240ML 8oz every 15minutes at 8:00.
It's now 9:01 and unfortunately I'm still waiting for the anti vomit (zofran) settle my tummy, to kick in. I am worn out. I am dehydrated because no matter how much water I've drunk all day today, and how many sips of yellow Gatorade I've attempted to gargle, I can't keep things down.

So soon enough, I'll start the 2nd prep, and be prepared for a long night.

So, RUN RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN, YOU CAN'T CATCH ME, I'M THE GASTRO-MAN!

*Lets hope he'll be able to do the test tomorrow. I don't want any clogged scopes.

"PEE UP PEE DOWN JUST PUT THE SEAT DOWN!"

2010-01-05T06:23:00.000-08:00

The start of a new year.
Why do we always use this (and Yom Kippur) as an excuse to erase our slate? Why can't we improve ourselves without the Rise of Him, or without the Day Of Atonement? Not to mention the new Jewish New Year, and then the USA December 31st New Year? Why is it so hard to just improve ourselves every day?

I'm guilty of that. I use certain events and occasions that fall into our days, as an excuse to erase the slate and start over. But do I do that on regular days?

Nope.
Something I have to work on.

If you were to die and come back as a fly and end up in the below zero temps in a burb near Chicago...if you were to end up a fly, on a wall in a room... a wall in a room with three boys, a begging poochie and one mommy... this is what you would have "heard" this am with all your fly eyes (do flies have ears?):

"Don't let the dog kiss you, she has pee on her face."
"If you want to be wearing vagina's as little Virginia's, then please, continue to do your business the way you're doing it."

Suffice to say, it was a very long start to the morning.
Yes, I think my apostrophies are in the wrong place, too. Do I care? Not as much as you do.

2010's: WHAT DO I WANNA DOS

2010-01-01T09:24:00.000-08:00

Jackson said: to do better at videogames and not cry
Sullivan said: to eat mashed potatoes and not puke in his mouth
Ben said: "me no mike"
Brian said: "that's between Crusty and me"
I said:
too many things.
1) Not to be so damn cranky with the boys
2) To improve my pooping health (upper GI and colonscopy on Jan 7th! Yippee! Brian's got the paint out and is prepared to give my crack some beautiful bulls eye rings around it! Is that tacky?)
3) To purchase a home before April (I'd say the Word, but it's now part of the banned words list of 2009. It rhymes with limulus)
4) To enjoy my boys more
5) To have more then 2 date nights with my husband per year, one involving at least 2.5glasses of wine (I could include the alone times we have had while I've been in the hospital, but I don't think that counts if I'm the only one under the influence of nasty narcotics-dilaudid-).
6) To help make better the certain things our sons need improving on (whether that may be confidence, anger management or speech).
7) To blog more
8) To help more
9) To involve my career more, or rather, my future
10) To stop expecting expectations which will help me avoid ever being disappointed, or end up getting a side order of martyrisms.

There you have it 10 for 10's!
What's yours?
Or have you already blogged about yours? If you have, leave your link in my comments field so people can come visit you. Or, email me your link, and I'll add it to this post right here!

"HAPPY NUDE YEAR!"
(that would be Sully's words, not mine)

A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE

2009-12-30T18:56:00.000-08:00

WOW! ALL I CAN SAY IS, WOW!

A pregnant mother is clinically dead. They race to pull the baby out by csection. The baby is born, dead. Then, the mother comes back. Then, the baby comes back.
There is no explanation.
Except faith.
Here's the story:

CANCER KIDS AT CHRISTMAS

2009-12-24T12:24:00.000-08:00

Not just children with cancer, but children, young adults, teens, that are laying in a hospital bed somewhere, because they're facing a battle far more serious then a ruptured appendix, or a tonsilectomy.

So this year, please remember these children, their families,...and keep them in your prayers:
With that I give you something I wrote and sent out today via email:

In many hospitals across this land, as we prepare our ham, and roast beef, there are terminal children laying in their gowns, limited to their beds due to absolutely zero infection fighting abilities as they battle anything from brain cancer, leukemia, battens disease, pick an illness that could be terminal, and you name it. There are children in the icu unit on their last few days. There are children that may not make it to Christmas.

There is a family that started a Christmas drive for all the many children in these hospitals-because, like those children, this particular family has a 5year old daughter, fighting to survive, undergoing her 5th round of chemo to fight a brain tumor so rare, you have to hope that God will give them continued Faith as well as complete healing for their 5 year old daughter. Not only did this wonderful family start this Christmas drive, but with each Christmas gift donated and sent to the hospital, they also included a bible to give to each child.

Here is what this mom said about delivering the gifts for the Christmas drive. (remember, her own daughter is fighting a fight they never imagined. Remember, that this little girl will have to be in the hospital, during Christmas, and during her birthday this month, as their other 2 children (approx. age 7 and 3) are not able to be with their parents, or sister, at the hospital, due to this particular chemo round and the fact that Kate has zero fighting abilities due to these chemicals. A family divided on Christmas, not because of divorce, but because of an illness, diagnosed June 28th, or 29th (cannot recall) of this year. Two children in their home with their Aunt and Grandma. Their sick sister laying in her hospital bed, dealing with mouth sores, stomach pain from the morophine, throwing up, having a tube up her nose to help assist with nutrition, having to pee almost every hour to try and get the toxic chemicals that hopefully will have shrunk this tumor. A girl with so much spunk you'd ask to borrow some. A girl with a twinkle in her eyes whenever Spongebob or Hannah Montana ends up on the tv in her room.

Here are a few snippets of what this wonderful amazing mom said:
"We were able to deliver a few more gifts today. We were touched by the reception my mom and sister received at another local hospital's oncology department when dropping off gifts. They were short on donations this year. They wrote a touching email saying one boy just kept walking by the packages for about an hour trying to choose his. He however knew just which one he wanted, he was just passing time allowing the presents to be a needed distraction from his treatments.

A mother here today, told one of the staff that she was so very grateful, no one had ever done anything like this for their family, ever. One mom told me that she knew the Bible would be her daughters favorite gift she received. So that is the only way we can thank so many of you who participated. With the thanks of those who were very touched by your generosity."

"So yesterday we learned that the little girl who we delivered presents to, the night before, went to be with Jesus. On her birthday. The mom with many tears gave me the presents back when I saw her again, saying another little girl would be able to enjoy them now. I cried as I took the gifts knowing they would not need the added reminder that their little girl would not be opening her birthday presents."
*to learn more about this mom, her daughter, Kate's daddy, and their family, pls click on the links to the right of this page titled: http://www.prayforkate.com

Let this be a reminder to us all.
Merry Christmas,
Much Love,
One Crusty Mom-E, Big Dog,
Jack, Sully, Ben
and Marina-arf-

"This will remain the land of the free, only so long as it is the home of the brave."
~Elmer Davis